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SUNSETS 



ON 



THE HEBBEW MOUNTAINS. 




THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 



KEY. J. R MACDUFF, D. D., 

AUTHOR OF "MEMORIES OF GENNESARET," " M0RNIK9 AND NIGHT WATCHES,* 
ETC., ETC., ETC. 



' Tis gone that bright and orbed blaze, 
Fast fading from our wistful gaze ; 
Yon mantling cloud has hid from sight 
The last faint pulse of quiv'ring light.' 1 



" There was a soul on eve autumnal sailir^f, 

Beyond the earth's dark bars, 
Toward the land of sunsets never paling, 

Toward heaven's sea of stars ; 
Behind there was a wake of billows tossing, 

Before, a glory lay. 
O happy soul! with all sail set, just crossing 
Into the Far-away — 
The glooms and gleams — the calmness and the strife 
Were death behind thee, and before thee life." 



NEW YOEK: 
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, 

No. 530 BROADWAY. 
1871. 







\ 



hC control S»— * 

I 




tmp9 6 



027364 



CONTENTS, 



I. SUNSETS ON THE MOUNTAINS OF MAMRE, 9 

II. A DISTANT SENSET, 22 

III. SUNSET ON MOUNT EPIIRAIM, 36 

IV. A TROUBLED SUNSET, - - - . 62 

V. SUNSET ON RAMAH, 78 

VI. SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF GILEAD, 100 

VII. SUNSET ON MOUNT ZION, 114 

VIII. TWO SUNSETS ON THE HILLS OF JERICHO, - - - - • - - 132 

IX. A LONG DAY AND LATE SUNSET, 150 

X. SUNSET ON THE HEIGHTS OF GILGAL, 163 

XI. A DARK DAY AND A BRIGHT SUNSET, 184 

XII. SUNSET ON MOUNT MORIAH, 204 

XIII. SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OP ABARIM, 224 

XIV. A SUNSET ON ZOAE, 250 

XV. SUNSET ON MOUNT TABOR, 26G 

XVI. THE GREAT SUNSET, ■ 2S? 

XVII, SUNSET ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES, 800 



I 






If the following pages contained a mere roll and record 
of death-bed scenes, they would form a gloomy volume. 

Such, however, is not their purport. While the Author has 
occasionally dwelt (as in the two opening chapters) on the 
closing hours of Scripture worthies, — whenever incidents of 
note in connexion with these are recorded, — he has, in 
general, rather sought to make their " last days " the stand- 
point for a retrospective view of character and history. It 
has been his endeavour mainly to inculcate, not so much 
lessons from death, as lessons from life viewed from this its 
solemn termination. As an eloquent writer has remarked, 
— " Death is often at once the close and the epitome of exist- 
ence. It is the index at the end of a volume. All a man's 
properties seem to gather round him as he is about to leave 
the world." There is often, moreover, a mellowed glory sur- 
rounding the hour of dissolution. God's saints are like 
forest trees in their golden autumn tints — grandest in decay, 
when the hand of death is on them. They often hear, like 
Bunyan's hero, distant bells from the land of Beulah. Minis- 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

tering angels seem ^o bring down draughts — prelibations— 
from the river of life, to refresh their spirits in the closing 
conflict. 

Perhaps, to some, the name selected for the book may 
require explanation or apology. If we regard the world of 
nature as a typical volume, full of suggestive analogies, — an 
exponent and interpreter of the world of spirit, — no symbol 
surely is more striking and appropriate than " Sunset "is 
of Death. Every evening, as the sun goes clown, we have a 
permanent type and enduring parable of the close of life, as 
well as a pledge and prophecy of the rising again in the 
eternal morning. The God of nature, in this His own. hiero- 
glyphic, countersigns the beautiful utterance of His Word — 
" Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the 
end of that man is peace'' (Ps. xxxvii. 37.) In support of 
these assertions, reference might be made to the motto- 
verses from some of our best poets which head the fallowing 
chapters. It will be seen that these masters of sacred song, 
in their delineations of the believer's death, have fondly 
clung to the same impressive figure. They have dipped 
their pencils in the golden hues of a western sky. 

Pew can have beheld a gorgeous Sunset, without the same 
suggestive association. Incomparably the grandest scene the 
writer ever witnessed in nature, was a sunset on Mont Blanc, 
as seen from the Plegere. The u mo-march mountain " had . 
appeared during the day, under varied, shifting, capricious 
effects of light and shadow;— at one time fleecy vapours, 
at another, darker masses obscuring his giant form. As 



INTRODUCTION. VU 

evening, however, approached, all these were dispelled ; — not 
a cloud floated in the still summer air, when the glowing orb 
hastened to his setting. The vast irregular pyramid of 
snow became a mass of delicately-flushed crimson. Anon, 
the shadows of night crept up the valley, until nothing but 
the summit of the mountain retained the hectic glow of 
expiring life — a coronal of evanescent glory. This, too, in 
its turn, slowly and impressively passed away. The flaming 
sun of that long afternoon sank behind the opposite range of 
Alps ; and the colossal mass in front, which, a few minutes 
before, had been gleaming with ruby splendour, now lapsed 
into a hue of cold gray, as if it had assumed robes of sack- 
cloth and ashes, in exchange for the glow and warmth and 
brightness of life. The image and emblem could not be 
mistaken. Both fellow-spectators at the moment gave ex- 
pression to the same irresistible suggestion, — What a sublime 
symbol — what an awful and impressive photograph of 
Death ! 

Nor was this alL When that last lurid glow was linger- 
ing on the summits, lighting up the jewels in this icy 
diadem, the sun itself had in reality already set ; — he had 
sunk behind the line of horizon. The valley beneath had 
long been sleeping in shadow, and lights were twinkling in 
the chalets. This, too, had its irresistible spiritual meaning 
and lesson, a lesson which is again and again noted and 
enforced in the succeeding pages, — that the radiance of the 
moral sunset lingers after the earthly course has run ; — a 
man's influence survives death ! These glorious orbs of the 



Vlll INTRODUCTION. 

olden time Lave set for thousands of years, but their mel- 
lowed lustre still irradiates the world's mountain-tops. 
Though dead, they yet "speak." 

There is no teaching so interesting or so profitable as that 
of inspired biography. There are no lessons so grand or so 
suggestive as those derived from the study of the lives and 
character of the great heroes of the past, who manfully 
struggled through trial and temptation till crowned with 
victory. They are truly the world's great ** artists." The;/ 
have moulded life. Wondrous as are the conceptions 
wrought out by the sculptor's chisel in breathing marble, — 
what, after all, are these ? Dumb creations — soulless, inani- 
mate expressions of beauty and power. Grander, and more 
godlike, surely, has been the work of those " great ones of 
the olden time " who, by their words and deeds, have in- 
fluenced successive ages — chiselled the moral features of 
mankind. 

It is the humble wish of the writer, to act as guide to his 
readers through these corridors of hoary time, rich in this 
noblest sculpture. Amid the hum of a busy industry ; amid 
the race for riches ; amid the wheels and shuttles of labour 
■ — at the counter — in the exchange — the house — the family, — 
let us learn from these great biographies how to live and how 
to die. Each character delineated in sacred story, if we read 
it aright, has some grand individual lesson to teach for this 
work- day world ; — some principle, or spiritual grace we do 
well to ponder ; whether it be faith, or fortitude, or patience, 
or self-reliance, or self-sacrifice, or submission, or endurance, 



INTRODUCTION. IS 

or scrupulous honour. In a few of the examples selected, we 
have beacons to warn ; but in the main, they are designed to 
guide, stimulate, and instruct. Let us watch the life-struggle, 
and profit by its close. Let us see how these candidates for 
immortality ran their race and reached their goal, and let us 
'* go and do likewise ; " — saying, in the spirit of the great poet 
of nature, who employs again and again that same image 
of Life's " SUNSET," — 

■* Kelp with Thy grace through life's short day 
Our upward and our downward way, 
And glorify for us the west, 
When we shall sink to final rest." * 

With one exception, for reasons stated in the chapter 
itself, the author has restricted the " Sunsets " to those on 
" the Hebrew mountains!' Though thereby constrained to 
exclude several well-known Bible characters, it has enabled 
him alike to set needful limits to the volume, and also to 
include some names less known and familiar in the roll of 
Hebrew worthies. He will not venture to offer any apology 
for the imperfections of the volume, and the inadequate 
justice done to a great theme. Such as it is, he commends 
these " sunset " memories to the Great Head of the Chun b, 
with the earnest hope and prayer — 

" That often from that other world on this 

Some gleams from great souls gone before may shin? p 
To shed on struggling hearts a clearer bliss, 
And clothe the truth with lustre more divine." 

* Wordsworth. 



I 

Stonaet mx % iltoronfams 0f Start 



" These in Life's distant even, 

Shall shine serenely bright; 
As in th' autumnal heaven 

Mild rainbow tints at night : 
When the last show'r is stealing down, 

And ere they sink to rest, 
The sunbeams weave a parting crown 

For some sweet woodland nesfc. 

" The promise of the morrow 

Is glorious on that eve ; 
Bear as the holy sorrow 

When good men cease to live. 
When, bright'ning ere it die away, 

Mounts up their altar-flame, 
Still tending with in tenser ray 

To Heav'n, whence first it came. 

" Say not it dies, that glory, 

'Tis caught unquench'd on high j 
Those saint-like brows so hoary 

Shall wear it in the sky. 
No smile is lik& the smile of death 

When, all good musings past, 
Rise wafted with the parting breath 
The sweetest thought the last." 

— Christian Year. 

u Then Abraham gave up the ghost, and died in a good old age, an old 
man, and full of years; and was gathered to his people. And his sons 
Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah, in the field of 
Ephron, the son of Zohar the Hittite, which is before Mamre." — Gei*. xzv. 
8,9. 




SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF MAMKR 

We begin witli the oldest, and in many respects the most 
memorable, of all the " sunsets " on the Hills of Canaan, — 
the departure of the illustrious Father of the Hebrew nation, 
whose name to the "children of Abraham " is still their 
most treasured patrimony, the great household word in their 
world-wide home. There is little recorded in connexion 
with the mere closing of the Patriarch's life. Like the sun- 
sets with which his eyes were familiar in his own Eastern 
sky,— we have no twilight hour— no melting shadows of 
eventide. Other death-beds in the olden time, as we shall find, 
were rendered remarkable by saintly counsels,— children and 
children's children were summoned in to receive the hallowed 
benediction and catch the last glimpse of the dimming eye ! 
All this is a blank in the terminating chapter of Abraham's 
history. Whether Isaac had stood by his dying parent's 
pillow, listening to parting attestations to God's faithfulness, 
and in some new visions of the "far-off" Gospel "day" had 
poured into his ear words of prophetic rapture ; — whether 
roving Ishmael had sped him from his desert "castles"* 
to receive and return the final blessing ;— whether old 
Eliezer of Damascus was there, faithful in death as he had 
been in life, lifting up his withered hands in prayt-r to 

* Gen. xxv. 13 



* SUNSETS OK THE HEBKEW MOUNT A.INS. 

" the Lord God of his master Abraham," — of all this, not 
a word is said ; — not even is the locality described where 
that great orb of Israel hasted to his setting. We have every 
reason to believe it must have been nigh to Mamre. But 
whether in some sequestered spot, with only a few of his 
own family around him, or amid the suppressed hum of a 
'■' city of tents," hushed in awe and silence under the shadow 
of death, we are not informed. The simple narrative tells us 
no more than that, at the ripe period of one hundred and 
seventy-five years, "Abraham gave up the ghost, and died 
in a good old age, an old man, and full of years ; and was 
gathered to his people. And his sons Isaac and Ishmael 
buried him in the cave of Machpelah." 

Nor is this silence of the biographer and of the Spirit 
of God without its significance. Does it not announce the 
lesson, constantly recurring in the succeeding pages, that life, 
and not death, is the all-important part of human history ? 
We test the strength of the vessel, not by the way in which 
she entered the sheltered harbour, but by how she wrestled 
with the storm out in the defenceless ocean. We estimate 
the prowess of the warrior, not as he returns at the close of 
conflict, weak and weary, but as he bore himself up amid the 
fray, in the heat of battle. It is the opening and middle 
chapters of a man's biography that are the momentous ones, 
and which, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, determine 
the character of the closing scene. It may, indeed, be sooth- 
ing to the bereaved to listen at the hour of death to devout 
expressions of faith and hope ; — these, in the case of all, are 
hallowed keepsakes and souvenirs to be exchanged for no 
earthly treasure. But rather, far rather, would we revert to the 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF MAMEE. 5 

even tenor of a close walk with God. If the death-bed be in 
silence and gloom, — if the spirit be hurried away to meet its 
Maker amid the ravings of delirium, — what signify a few 
gathering clouds at sunset ? Better is the memory of meek- 
ness and gentleness, patience and submission, through a 
bright heavenly life. Better surely these, than the reverse, — 
a storm -wreathed life-sky — the sun of existence wading 
through clouds, and a watery burst of sunshine at the 
setting. 

But brief as the record of Abraham's death is, it is not 
without its impressive lessons. Let us take clause by clause 
in the order of the inspired register. 

" Then Abraham gave up the ghost." 

"The English word ghost/' says an able critic and com- 
mentator,* " is supposed to be derived from the Anglo-Saxon 
gast, 'an inmate — inhabitant — guest* — and also ' spirit/ In 
popular use it is now restricted to the latter meaning. But 
the primitive idea seems to be that of dismissing the soul or 
spirit as the guest of the body." In this etymological 
sense the reference is peculiarly beautiful. Abraham's spirit 
— his immortal and nobler part — was " a guest," a lodger or 
wayfarer in an earthly tent — a perishable dwelling. Its 
tent-life was not its home-life. It was like an imprisoned 
bird longing to soar away. And now the appointed time has 
come — the cage is opened — the winged tenant goes free. 
The tent is taken down, pin by pin — rope and stakes and 
canvas — and the "lodger for the nio-ht," forsaking the 
blackened patch in the desert — the smouldering ashes of his 
bivouac- fire — speeds away to "the better country," — 

* See Bush on Genesis, p. 262. 



6 SUBSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

" His spirit with a bound 
Left its encumb'ring clay ; 
His tent at sunrise on the ground 
A darken'd ruin lay." * 

Not long ago, a group of Alpine villagers were engaged, in 
early summer, weeding their croos close to their native ham- 
let. Above them rose mountain piled on mountain, crested 
with jagged peaks of everlasting snow. A low, murmuring, 
crushing sound was heard at eventide, high up among these 
cliffs ; a sound too familiar to be mistaken by experienced 
ears. It was the awful messenger of wrath and destruction. 
A fragment of rock, loosened in the topmost crags, became 
the nucleus and feeder of the avalanche. Down came the 
terrific invader, sweeping all before it, and burying the hand- 
ful of huts in a common ruin. The villagers themselves 
escaped unhurt. Disentangling their mutilated furniture 
from the midst of the broken pine-rafters and stones, and 
thankful for their providential escape, they moved to the 
opposite slope of the valley, and reared their dwellings anew. 

Death is that avalanche ! " At such a time as we think 
not ! " It may be in smiling spring, or in radiant summer, 
or hoary winter — -down it comes, destroying all that is fair 
and lovely and beauteous, 4 — rooting up tender flowers, bud- 
ding blossoms, trellised vines, primeval forests, — overwhelm- 
ing " the house of the earthly tabernacle," and leaving it a 
mass of dilapidated walls and shattered timbers. But what 
of the inmate? What of the immortal inhabitant? The 
house is dissolved, but the tenant is safe. A new home is 
reared for it. The soul quits the wrecked bodily frame-work, 

* Montgomery. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF MAMRE. 7 

and seeks the " building of God," " eternal in the heavens." 
The same idea is beautifully expressed by a Christian poet of 
the land of Luther in one of their funeral Hymns-— 

" Here in an inn a stranger dwelt, 
Here joy and grief by turns he felt: 
Poor dwelling, now we close thy door, 

The task is o'er, 
The sojourner returns no more f 

" Now of a lasting Home possest, 
He goes to seek a deeper rest. 
The Lord brought here ; He calls away, 

Make ho delay, 
This home was for a passing day."* 

"The golden-winged butterfly soars aloft from its broken chry- 
salis home. Death, like the angel in Peter's dungeon, breaks 
the fetters of mortality, throws open the prison doors ; and 
from the gloom of night, and the crash of the earthquake, 
leads the spirit out to gladsome day. Oh that we would ever 
view it as such — the exodus of life — the outmarching of the 
soul from its chains and its bondage to the land of rest and 
liberty and peaCe ! 

"He died in a good old age, an old man, and full of 
years." "We must be struck with the tautology here. First 
the Patriarch's age is given in the previous verse— "And 
these are the days of the years of Abrahams life, which he 
lived, an hundred three score and fifteen years," (ver. 7.) 
Then it is added that he died—" in old age"- — " a good old 
age"- — " an old man"—" andfidl of years" 

The reason ol this redundancy of expression would have 
been better understood and appreciated by a Jew than by ua 

* Sachse. 



8 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

The Old Testament economy dealt largely in temporal bless- 
ings. These were bestowed as types and shadows and 
pledges of higher spiritual ones. Old age was one of these. 
" Wisdom" is represented in the Book of Proverbs with 
" length of days in her right hand!' And the Psalmist, in 
enumerating the blessings heaped on the head of the right- 
eous, says — " The Righteous shall flourish like the Palm- 
tree ; he shall grow like the Cedar in Lebanon 

They shall still bring forth fruit in old age/'* 
" The hoary head is a crown of glory when found in the 
way of righteousness! '*(* 

In the case of Abraham, his advanced years were per- 
haps the more specially noted by his biographer as a tes- 
timony to God's fidelity to His promises. Eighty years 
antecedent to this time, in the earlier life of the patriarch, 
the Lord had led His servant forth amid the glories of an 
Eastern night, and pointed to the spangled firmament as 
an emblem of his spiritual seed. In the solemn covenant 
which He made with him on that remarkable occasion, 
He included this among other promises, "And thou shalt 
go to thy Fathers in peace, thou shalt be buried IN A 
GOOD OLD AGE ! "% Jehovah had been with him in life. He 
had been repeatedly true to His assurance, " Fear not, Abra- 
ham, I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward /" § 
And now "with long life" did He "satisfy him" before He 
fully shewed him the promised " salvation ! " 

But this good old age — this fulness of years — this pro- 
tracted life had its close. The sun lingered at his setting — 

* Ps. xcii. 12-14. f Prov. xvi. 31. 

$ Gen. xv. 15. § Gen. xv. 1. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF MAMEE. 9 

but he set at last ! Abraham was " the friend of God," yet 
he died. He was the " Father of the Faithful/' yet he died. 
All his greatness and goodness, and faith and patriarchal 
virtues, could not exempt him from the universal doom. 
* Though he lived long and lived well, though he did good 
and could be ill spared, yet he died at last."* His first 
inheritance in Canaan was a grave for his dead. God had 
assured him that all the land his footsteps trod would yet 
be his own ; but for many a year the Pilgrim Wanderer 
could only point to one little spot, and say, " That is mine." 
It was the field and the sepulchre he purchased of Ephron 
the Hittite, by the walls of Hebron, where he laid the 
body of Sarah, and where his own was next to follow. 
"I am a stranger and a sojourner" said he, as his eye 
fell for the first time on that grave. Let us seek to cherish 
the old Pilgrim's spirit. We may have no other rood of 
ground in the world which we can call our own — but we 
shall one day claim the narrow house "appointed for all 
living ! " With our eye upon it, let us, with the great 
patriarch, confess that we are " strangers and pilgrims on 
the earth." 

" He was gathered to his people" It is a pleasing and a 
hallowed thought, — the dust of a household mixing together ! 
The most sacred spot on earth is the place where the ashes 
of our kindred repose. And beautiful is the exception which 
one occasionally sees made in our own land, when, by reason 
of family misfortune and disaster or other causes, the old 
family property and inheritance has passed into other a,vd 

* Matthew Henrr. 



10 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

alien hands, — there is yet one spot which has been still pre- 
served — where the yew tree and weeping willow every now 
and then have their stillness invaded by the tramp of the 
funeral throng ! 

Abraham had doubtless the same feeling. We know not 
where he died, — but we are here expressly told that the 
cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron the Hittite, was 
opened to receive his mortal tenement. But is it this to 
which the historian alludes when he records of this illustrious 
saint that he was "gathered to his people V Abraham's 
own people (his fathers) were not in Canaan but in Charran, 
and it is evidently not to them he refers, in the sense of being 
interred in their distant sepulchres, for the next verse informs 
us that this was not the case. Alike of Moses and Aaron it 
is said, in recording their death, " They were gathered to their 
'people'' But this plainly could refer to no vault where 
rested the ashes of their sires, for the loneliest of sepulchres 
was appointed them, amid the solitudes of Hur and Mount 
Nebo. 

Without grounding too positively on an ambiguous phrase 
the statement of a great and comforting truth, which has 
other passages in its support, may we not. in common with 
many trustworthy interpreters, ancient and modern, venture 
with strong probability to conclude, that by the expression in 
question, the sacred writer meant, not that the patriarch's 
body, but that his soul was gathered to swell the ranks of that 
true "people" in the Church triumphant, with whom his 
name is so often associated in Holy Writ. His ashes were laid 
in the cave of Machpelah — (we come to a description of their 
obsequies immediately) — but the biographer first describes 



"S< 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF MAMRE. 11 

the destiny of the nobler part. He speaks of Abraham as 
" giving up the ghost/' (dismissing the spirit-guest from the 
earthly tabernacle,) then he follows that spirit in its arrowy 
flight, till he sees it folding its wings amid the ranks of 
" the people of God * in the Church of the glorified. 

It affords a delightful theme for hallowed imagination, 
to picture the soul of this great and good man entering the 
gates of glory, to be welcomed by the Abels, and Noahs, and 
Enochs, and the unrecorded saints in the ranks of the re- 
deemed, tlio pledge and first-fruits of a mighty "multitude 
which no man can number." 

Moreover, we are left to infer that his was an immediate 
entrance on a glorified state. That the moment he breathed 
away his spirit, it took its place in the mansions of bliss. 
When, three hundred and thirty years subsequently, God ap- 
peared tr- Moses out of the burning bush at Horeb, He 
revealed Himself as " the God of Abraham, and Isaac, and 
Jacob." Our blessed Lord's own comment on which, in 
reply t« the Sadducee objection to a resurrection, is, that 
Abraham was then alive — for God was "not the God of the 
dead, but of the living!'* And in His parable of " the Rich 
Man and Lazarus," He represents the glorified beggar as 
reclining on "the bosom of Abraham." f 

This informs us that " the souls of believers are y^heir 
death made perfect in holiness, and do immediately pass into 
glory/' They are a living people ! Oh, most precious and 
consoling truth to those who have nameless treasures in the 
tombl Years after they have gone to their "long home;" 
when perhaps the moss may have gathered on their grave- 

* Matt. xxii, 32. f Luke xvi. 23. 



12 SUNSETS 0N THE HEBKEW MOUNTAINS. 

stones, and time has dismantled their old earthly dwelling, 
God appears to the lonely survivor and says — " Fear not ! 
I am the God of thy sainted one ! — Fear not ! I am his 
shield and his exceeding great reward." It gives us also the 
ennobling and encouraging assurance that when we die, if 
we die in the Lord, we go not to a strange or unfamiliar 
land; — that yonder heaven is a second home. " Our people" 
(our loved and lost) are gathered there before us. Fathers 
and mothers, husbands and wives, parents and children, are 
waiting to welcome us, and to renew the old groups and 
greetings of hallowed earthly communion. When David 
said regarding the tender blossom that lay withered at his 
feet, " I shall go to him," can we suppose that the eye of that 
stricken parent rested only on the cold walls of the mauso- 
leum where the cherished dust was to repose ? No ; his 
thoughts were dwelling on reunion in a better world, where 
affection's " silver cord" would no more be loosed, nor its 
"golden bowl" be broken. 

Cheerless indeed would be the thought, as we lay beloved 
relatives in the grave, " I shall see you no more for ever ! " 
We cling to the belief that there shall be renewed friendships, 
undying restoration of earth's sweetest fellowships. How com- 
forting especially must this expectation be to those who like 
Abraham are " full of years" — the last of their generation, — 
the friends of their early life removed, — the village, or street, 
or city where they were born, filled with new and unrecog- 
nised faces — the lights in their own homestead on 3 by one 
extinguished — the trees of the home forest, one by one, cut 
down, and the gnarled trunks alone remaining ! How cheering 
for them to think, when stretched on a death-bed, that they 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF MAMRE. 1# 

are not so much going from home as to home ; — that if they 
wish to be "gathered to their people" they must go to 
heaven ! That that " dark Valley" from which they used, 
in the bright buoyant days of youth, to start, as something 
fearful, is really the avenue leading up to their Father's; 
dwelling-place, — the rendezvous of their kindred. As they 
draw near, they hear music and joy ; and many a familiar 
voice exclaiming — " This my parent, my brother, my son, 
was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found !" 

There is just one other entry in this register of Abrahams 
death — " And his sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in 
the cave of Machpelah." 

We read of no great funeral procession ! — no trappings or 
pageantry of mock-mourning, such as mar in modern times 
the solemnity of death. There are only two mourners men- 
tioned. More there may have been. As we read of Samuel 
that "all Israel" mourned him, so the thousands in th<? 
strange land who had come to recognise Abraham as s 
mighty prince * may have gathered in as mute spectators oi 
the solemn scene. If they did, nothing is said of it. For 
aught we know the old servant of God may have uttered & 
wish, oft expressed still, — that no pomp, or equipage, or 
crowd should throng the way to the field at Mamre. The 
sacred text pictures to us a grave, with only two attendants, 
paying the last tribute of filial devotedness to the most 
honoured of parents ! And who were these ? Other sons 
had Abraham. But the heir and the outcast, the child of 
the bondwoman and the child of the free, are alone there th* 

* Gen. xxiii. 6. 



1 4t SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

representatives of his family. See them smoothing his death- 
pillow, composing his limbs, embalming his body, and com- 
mitting it to its last resting-place ! 

Beautiful and touching spectacle ! Ah, Death ! how often 
hast thou proved the healer of breaches ? We know that a 
bitter hostility had separated the brothers ; Hagar's son had 
never forgotten the hour of dishonour when he and his 
mother were thrust out by a jealous rival. "Who can tell 
but the old father, ere he closed his eyes in death, got the 
estranged children to lock their hands together in forgive- 
ness ? Be this as it may, we see them at all events in hal- 
lowed brotherhood, standing by the grave of the patriarch, — 
Isaac with his meditative spirit, his soul full of burning 
memories of parental fondness, — Ishmael, "the wild man" 
of the desert, leaning on his reversed spear, — and both, on 
this sacred altar of their common affections, rekindling the 
smouldering embers of brotherly love. A pregnant lesson 
to divided relatives — divided families — divided churches — 
divided nations ! 

" He being dead yet speaketh ! " Is Abraham dead ? His 
body sleeps, we believe to this day undisturbed, in the old 
cave of Machpelah, guarded by a cumbrous pile of masonry. 
But the death-wail, which arose from the mouth of that 
grotto at Mamre, did not close the earthly record of this 
spiritual giant. His example and influence have been living 
through a hundred generations. His faith has been spoken 
of throughout the whole world. The lamp which he lit on 
leaving Charran, unquenched by the damp and darkness of 
the tomb, still burns bright and clear. The winds which 
Bhook the boughs, and at last laid prone on the ground this 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF MAMRE. 15 

old Terebinth of Mamre, have blown its seeds into eartVs 
thousand sequestered, nooks and crevice:?. The sanctity 
of his great character never dies. How many a Jewish, 
ay, and Christian father — as with bereft and desolate heart 
he mourns over family losses — has had his misgivings and 
murmurings silenced and reproved as he thinks of that un- 
paralleled surrender of the child of promise ; — God exclaim- 
ing, '"Abraham! Abraham!" — the foreboding of heavy 
tidings, — whilst the Patriarch with alacrity responded — ■ 
(i Here am I" 

Let it be with us, in some imperfect degree, as with this 
holy saint. Let us seek to leave behind us some hallowed 
influence. He left behind him much that the world would 
call great — much cattle, substance, herds, flocks ; a great 
name — a patriarch, a shepherd-king. But these were no- 
thing compared with what outpeered them all — the testimony 
that he was "the Friend of God."* 

In this sense, may many of us be the children of Abraham ; 
ambitious to bequeath as he did, not a legacy of money, or 
wealth, or honours, shekels of silver, herds of camels, or 
changes of raiment, — but a legacy of holy living and happy 
dying — lives of sterling integrity and worth. 

Who among us (I believe not one) but can summon up, 
amid the graves of our fathers and deceased relatives, some 
such sacred character, — some hoary patriarch, some Abra- 
ham or Sarah,— whose exalted and consistent walk has left 
on our minds impressions never to be effaced ; who, when we 
think of true Christians, (Israelites indeed,) start up before 

* Hebron is still called El Khalyl, i.e., "The Friend" from its Laving 
Leen the at ode of the Patriarch. 



16 SUNSETS ON THE HEBKEW MOUNTAINS. 

us in vivid reality ! They thought they bade us farewell 
when we were summoned to their death-chambers to re- 
ceive a last blessing. Nay, deathless ones ! ye are, indeed, 
"gathered to your people," but in many an hour— in the 
murmur of the dense crowd, in the hush of unbroken soli- 
tude — your silvery voices are still heard. Ye are " gathered 
to your people," but the people ye left behind you on earth 
still gather in thought around you. The flame has left for 
heaven, but the live-ashes still linger on the altar. The voice 
has ceased, but it reverberates in endless echoes among the 
earthly hills ! 

Nor let any suppose a long life like that of Abraham is 
required to fulfil the great purposes of existence. The ex- 
pression in the sacred record is significant and suggestive, 
" an old man, and full" The words " full of years" are 
added by our translators, and are not in the original. 
"Full" — the idea is that of a tree, whatever its age and 
dimensions, whose branches, great or small, are filled with 
sap and clothed with verdure. This fulness is not to be 
measured or estimated by time or years. It is the fulness 
of character ; ripeness for transplantation to the heavenly 
Paradise. The young sapling if covered with foliage is 
fulfilling the conditions and purposes of life, as much as the 
oldest denizen of the forest. Of the loving child or youth 
who has consecrated an early existence to God, and who 
leaves the memories of worth and goodness behind him, as 
well as of the hoary-headed saint with his mantle of snowy 
age, it may be said, "He died an hundred years old."* 

Let us seek especially, as we take the last look of Abra- 
* Isa. lxv. 20. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF MAM&E. 17 

ham's mausoleum, to be partakers of his faith. It was this 
exalted and exalting grace whicli made him the hero that 
he was. " Faithful Abraham" is the panegyric which, more 
than once, inspired lips pronounce over his ashes. Faith 
was the motive principle, the guiding star throughout his 
chequered history. It was FAITH, — simple, calm, dignified 
trust in the bidding of God, — which led him from his paternal 
plains to the wild glens of distant Canaan. It was faith 
which reared altar upon altar wherever his tent was pitched. 
It was faith which girded on his armour against the con- 
federate kings, and crowned him with victory. It was faith 
which dictated the unselfish proposals to Lot, in the partition 
of the land. Faith sent him to wrestle for the doomed 
cities of the plain. Faith enabled him to master the strug- 
gling emotions in his heart of hearts, in the hour when that 
grace culminated in its grandest triumph on the Mount of 
Sacrifice. Except in one solitary instance, his Faith ever for- 
bade any mercenary calculations, — any debate between duty 
and expediency — between natural affection and divine obedi- 
ence. He had but one thought, and that was to obey his God, 
— makiug his own will coincident with the Divine. He lived 
for this. It was enshrined in his soul, and sanctified and 
interpenetrated his whole being. God was to him food and 
raiment, home and country, Father and Friend — ALL ! 
Abraham offers perhaps the grandest illustration earth has 
ever beheld of the great characteristic of the heavenly state, 
where the angelic will is finally and completely merged and 
absorbed in the Divine. 

And the Great Being he so trustfully served, suffered not 
his faith to go unrecompensed. Never does the patriarch 

B 



18 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

rear his altar, but the sacrifice is acknowledged by the pro- 
mise of some new blessings. Never does he gird himself for 
some fresh heroic deed, but some inspiring vision or " word " 
is ready to meet him. If his own character was one magni- 
ficent example of faith, obedience, self-surrender, and self- 
sacrifice, God in various ways, in the course of his history, 
repeats the touching and impressive picture of the King 
of Salem, — coming forth to meet His servant with tokens 
of royal favour as " the King of Righteousness " and " peace." 
His life is like a mighty pyramid rising to heaven. Every 
stone of trustful obedience which Abraham lays, God cements 
with some new covenant token. That enduring pyramid of 
faith still towers above his ashes, testifying alike to the 
moral greatness of the patriarch and to the faithfulness of 
Him "that promised." 

Eeader ! have you this faith of Abraham — a faith which, 
as in his case, manifests its legitimate and invariable influ- 
ence in " working by love," " purifying the heart/' and " over- 
coming the world ? " When you come to die, in what sense 
could it be said of you, "He is gathered to his people V for 
this (in a widely different sense) will be said of all. "Say 
ye to the righteous," Ye shall be gathered to your people ! 
" Say ye to the wicked/' Ye shall be gathered to yours ! 
The angels, who are to be the final ingatherers, are said 
to " bind " the righteous and wicked in separate " bundles" * 
" The unjust" shall be gathered among the unjust bundles, 
to be "unjust still." "The filthy" shall be gathered amon^ 
the filthy, to be " filthy still." The righteous shall be gathered 
among the righteous, to be "righteous still;" and the holy 

* Blunts Lectures. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF MAMltE. 19 

among the holy, to be "holy still/' There will be moral 
assimilations* Like will draw to like. Spirits will cling to 
kindred spirits, like steel-filings to the magnet; or, as if 
the planets of heaven were suddenly to have the present 
equilibrium and balance of the great law of forces destroyed, 
so that many would rush to the central sun, and others shoot 
away into the illimitable abyss of darkness. There is a com- 
mon saying on earth, " The child is the father of the man." 
Equally true is it, in a vaster sense, of the great future, that 
the mortal life is the parent of the immortal. What we are, 
will determine what we shall be. The moral and spiritual 
affinities of earth will decide those of eternity. 

Let each ask, to wjiich would I be gathered ? What would 
be my bundle ? If the ingathering angel of death were to 
put in his sickle to-night, which would be the sheaf into 
which the reaper's hand would cast me? The children of 
God, or the children of the wicked one ? Can I now, looking 
up to Abraham "afar off" in the true Heavenly Canaan, say 
in the words of Ruth to Naomi, " Thy people shall be my 
people, and thy God my God t " 

And if we would add a closing sentence, it is this, Let us 
seek that the same lustrous, animating truth be ours which 
doubtless irradiated the countenance of the Patriarch at 
death, as it gladdened him in life. — " Your Father Abra- 
ham" says Jesus, " saw my day afar off, and was glad !" * 
It was the Vision of Christ — as the El-Shaddai, the " All- 
Sufficient" which surrounded with a heavenly halo the path- 
way of this Pilgrim-father, and, as "he stood before his 
dead," gilded the sepulchre of Mamre with hopes full of im- 

* John viii. 56. 



20 SUNSETS ON TIIE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

mortality. Who knows but that the ecstatic vision may have 
brightened and increased in intensity amid the deepening 
shadows of age, till it became brightest of all at the close — 
the glory of this " full orb's " setting, derived from the re- 
flected splendour of the Sun of Eighteousness ? '■ None but 
Christ" — "None but Christ" has ever been the motto 
and watchword of departing believers in every age of the 
Church. Is it not interesting to think of the key-note of 
f iris dying song of triumph as having been struck by the 
Father of the Faithful himself : to stand by that entranced 
pillow, and behold a panorama crowded with Gospel scenes 
passing before his eye ; Bethlehem and Nazareth — Caper- 
naum and Bethany — Gethsemane and Calvary ; and more 
toan all, the Divine Person who has given these names all 
t v ; eir imperishable significance and glory ? Other luminaries 
were to intervene before His day — all " the goodly fellowship 
f f prophets " — but these lesser orbs pale before the bright- 
ness of "the Light of Lights/' They had "no glory by 
reason of the glory which excelleth/' Champion of Faith as 
Abraham was, he had, like others, his hours of weakness — 
misgiving, distrust, unbelief. Bright as was the setting of 
this patriarchal sun, we can descry spots in his descending 
disk. Morning and mid-day clouds obscured its radiance. 
And, therefore, like all the good and true who have preceded 
and followed liim, he sought to have these, lost and swal- 
lowed up in the blaze of that " better Sun " whose rising 
was hailed with such triumphant joy. 

Keader, would you die happy? Would you have yours 
also a peaceful " sunset ? " Bring this " day of Christ " con- 
tinually before you. Gather up, if we might so speak, the 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OP MAMEE. % Z\ 

rays of the Sun of Righteousness in store for the hour of 
your departure. Blessed, thrice blessed are those on whom 
in life He rises, and at death He sets with healing " in His 
beams." Thrice blessed those who, at that hour, when their 
earthly warfare, — their spiritual conflict is closing, are me.' 
by the true Melchisedek to receive His benediction. 

Abraham was the Friend of God ; and He whose person 
and work made the patriarch " glad," says, to each of Hf«s 
true disciples, "/have called you Friends ! " Magnificent 
patrimony! better than earth's best hereditary honours, — 
" the child of Abraham," " the Friend of Jesus ! " Believers \ 
rise to the consciousness of your exalted rank, as the true 
aristocracy of the world, with the blood of patriarchs hi 
your veins : allied to "the Prince of the kings of the earth," 
"sons of God;" — ay, and along with nobler honours and 
destinies in reversion, permitted to "sit down with Abraham 
....»» the kingdom of YOUR FATHER," 



n. 

% Mntmxt Bxxmtt 



u 'Tis twilight now ; 
The sovereign sun behind his western hills 
In glory hath declined. The mighty clouds, 
Kiss'd by his warm effulgence, hang around 
In all their congregated hues of pride, 
Like pillars of some tabernacle grand, 
Worthy his glowing presence ; while the sky 
Illumined to its centre, glows intense, 
Changing its sapphire majesty to gold." 

— D. Mom, 

u ITor shall dull age, as worldlings say, 
The heavenward flame annoy; 
The Saviour cannot pass away, — 
And with Him lives our joy. 

• Ever the richest, tenderest glow 
Sets round th' autumnal sun : 
But there sight fails ; no heart may knoi7 
The bliss when life is done." 

— KliBLE. 

"By faith Jacob, when he was a dying, blessed both the sons of Joseph; 
and worshipped, leaning upon the top of his staff." — Hebrews si. 21. 

Genesis slvii. 27-31; adviii; xlix. 18, 23 -33. 



A DISTANT SUNSET. 

JACOB is the only name in our roll of ancient worthies whose 
departure was not strictly " a sunset on the Hebrew moun- 
tains." His sun set behind the pyramids of old Egypt, far 
from the land of his birth and his pilgrimage. But we can- 
not dissociate " Israel " from the hills and valleys which bear 
his name. In truth, no death-bed was in reality more in the 
heart of Canaan than his. The Hebrew mountains alone 
rose before his dying eye. We forget, as we listen to his 
lengthened farewell counsels, that so many leagues separate 
him from the land of his early life and wanderings ; and 
are only reminded that he is at a distance from his home, 
by the preparations made for his obsequies by the house of 
Pharaoh, and by the vast funeral procession, as it winds 
along the highway from Egypt to Canaan. 

No closing chapter in the annals of the patriarchs is so 
full of circumstantial detail. It was a quiet eventide after a 
stormy and troubled day. Moreover, it must be a scene pecu- 
liarly replete with animating and elevating lessons, when the 
great Apostle, out of the crowded incidents of Jacob's his- 
tory, selects from the article of "death" the greatest and 
grandest illustration of his faith. Let us stand by his bed- 
side, and receive instruction alike for the hour of life and the 
season of death. 

1st, Let us note his " blessing both the sons of Joseph." 
Joseph, on hearing that his father was laid on his death- 



24 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

bed, and that his last moments were approaching, hastened 
to conclude a life of filial devotedness by being present at 
the solemn scene. He took along with him his two boys, 
Manasseh and Ephraim, that they might profit by the old 
man's dying words, and receive his blessing. On their enter- 
ing the apartment, the half-blind patriarch raised himself on 
his bed, and a supernatural strength seemed to be imparted 
to him.* 

We have heard of "second sight " at death ; and, indeed, 
in the case of God's people, as we have already noted in a 
previous page, who can gainsay that there seems often and 
again to be a strange brightening and quickening of the 
inner sense as the outer man perishes, as if light from " the 
excellent glory " were let in through the rent and rending 
walls of the cottage of clay? Who, that have been privi- 
leged to stand often by Christian death-beds, have not 
occasionally observed a vast and marvellous expansion of 
the spiritual vision ; as if, though the breath still lingered, 
and the faltering tongue still spake, in reality, the mortal 
fetters had snapped, and the spirit had already begun its 
upward soaring ? We have known of more than one ecstatic 
departure where there were either visions of the Saviour or 
of angels ; — the death-couch lighted up with a mystic glory ; 
— the imagery of Eevelation actually realised, — the golden- 

* "What grandeur and vivacity of genius must Jacob retain even in that 
hour when strength and power fail, to be able to convey his ideas in such 
august terras, and in a flow of such happy poetic imagery as he does in the 
49th chapter of Genesis ! Who that reads this chapter would imagine that 
elevated strains like these — strains that would have done honour to the 
Muse of Homer, warbled from the lips of a dying man ; ... of a man, 
too, labouring under the utmost decays of age, and over whose head no 
fewer than one hundred and forty-seven years had passed ? " — T^plady. 



A DISTANT SUNSET. 25 

paved streets — the sapphire throne — the harpers harping 
with their harps, and voices saying, " Gome up hither /" 
The sea of life over; — the voyager seems to descry the 
lights, and listen to the murmurs of the ano-el-crowd 
lining the celestial shore. The fragrance of the spicy groves 
seems wafted to the enraptured senses ere gardens of 
immortality are themselves in sight. The gate of Heaven 
seems ajar, and its music reaches the soul, as it waits 
under the portal ready to enter in ! There was more 
than this in the case of Jacob. The spirit of prophecy 
had evidently descended. Glorious visions of the future 
rose up before him, until his eye rested on the very Angel 
that blessed him at Jabbok — the Eedeemer of the world — the 
coming " Shiloh " of a future day ! Filled with that glowing 
perspective of spiritual blessings, he calls the sons of Joseph 
to his side. He formally adopts them as his own. " They 
are mine/' says he ; "as Reuben and Simeon, they shall be 
mine." And again he says, "Let my NAME be named on 
them, and the name of my fathers, Abraham and Isaac;"* 
"and Joseph brought them near to him, and he hissed them, 
and embraced them. :, f 

But let us pause and ask, Who is the giver, and who are 
the recipients of these blessings? As it has been well 
observed, if we had not already known how the patriarch 
and the youths stood relatively to one another, we would 
have concluded, from the way in which Jacob bestows his 
dying benediction, that he was some aged Sheik or shepherd- 
king taking two of the sons of his herdsmen and adopting 
them, — serving them heirs to his wealth and fortune. Who 

* Gen. xlviii. 16, + Gen. xlviii. 10. 



26 SUNSETS ON THE HEBKEW MOUNTAINS. 

would ever dream that the picture is really the reverse ; that 
it is a poor old man — himself a pensioner, and dependent 
on foreign bounty — bringing in the sons of a prince, and 
telling them with a dignified mien and bearing, that they are 
to. be adopted as the heirs and children of a wandering 
shepherd ; that they are to renounce the certain honours of 
Kgypt, the land of fertility and wealth, of wisdom and re- 
nown, and to barter all, for the possessions of two tribes in 
a hilly country — itself far distant, and much of it yet to 
be conquered ? 

What is the. explanation of this remarkable transaction? 
As in the case of Abraham, Faith — a lofty faith, solves it all. 
When Joseph and his two sons entered the dying-chamber, 
and when Israel strengthened himself and sat upon his bed, 
what were the old man's opening words ? " God Almighty 
appeared to me at Luz (or Bethel) in the land of Canaan, 
and blessed me, and said unto me, Behold, I will make 
thee fruitfid, and multiply thee, and I will make of thee 
a multitude of people ; and will give this land to thy 
seed after thee for an everlasting possession ! " * And 
again, " He blessed Joseph, and said, God, before whom 
my fathers Abraham and Isaac did walk, the God ivhich 
fed me all my life long unto this day, the Angel ivhich 
redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads /"-(- He transfers 
to these his two grandchildren the blessing which he himself 
received on that ever-memorable night at Bethel when he 
awoke from his ladder-dream : a blessing which, anions 
other things, included the noblest of all — that " in him and 
his seed all the families of the earth were to be blessed." 

* Gen. xlviii. 3, 4. f Gen. xlviii. 15, 16. 



A DISTANT SUNSET. 27 

Had temporal blessings been what the patriarch sought to 
confer on these children — had it been a mere splendid 
provision for their earthly good — how different would have 
been his dying words, how different his parting advice to 
Joseph — " Never leave Egypt ! " he would rather have said, 
— " Good fortune has raised you to the pinnacle of earthly 
prosperity. I am justly proud of your elevation. Bring 
up your sons as princes of the land. To ingratiate them 
with the people, let them serve the gods of Egypt. Blot 
out from their memories all trace of the poverty-stricken 
country of their fathers. Do all you can to found a mighty 
dynasty ; and, now that I am about to die, rear a magni- 
ficent mausoleum or obelisk over my ashes : leave those 
of my fathers to rest alone in distant Machpelah. ;> 

How different was his conduct ! " Bring," he says to 
princely Joseph — "Bring near thy two sons that I may bless 
them with my blessing and name upon them my name. 
Biches I have none to offer. But the blessing I crave for 
them, and which I seek to bestow, is mightier than Egyptian 
treasure, and more enduring than your pyramids." " The 
God of thy father," said he, turning to Joseph, " shall help 
thee, and the A Imighty shall bless thee ; blessings of heaven 
above, blessings of the deep that lieth under, blessings of 
the breast and of the womb : the blessings of thy Father 
have prevailed above the blessings of my progenitors unto 
the utmost bound of the everlasting hills."* 

Seventeen years in that strange land — seventeen years, too, 
of great prosperity in fertile Goshen, undoubtedly the least 
clouded period of Jacob's life — had neither obliterated the 
* Gen. xlix. 25. 26. 



28 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

memories of Canaan, nor lessened his estimate of the superio- 
rity of spiritual blessings to the pomp and glitter of earthly 
renown. One smile from the God of Abraham was to him 
better than all the riches and honours of Egypt. His son 
being the Prime Minister of Pharaoh was nothing to the 
honour of being the child and the friend of God ! And to give 
the best evidence of his sincerity, the dying patriarch, with a 
singular frequency, charges Joseph on no account to permit 
his remains to be buried in Egypt, but to carry them up to 
the land of Canaan. When he first feels himself dying, he 
sends for his son, and takes an oath of him on the subject : 
" Put, I pray thee, thine hand under my thigh, and deal 
kindly and tridy with me : bury me not, I pray thee, in 
Egypt" * And then, after finishing his family blessings, ere 
the curtain finally falls, he renews and reiterates the request, -f* 
getting at the same time the children pledged to fulfil and 
ratify their father's oath. Joseph, too, with a faith and mag- 
nanimity as noble as his dying parent's, joyfully acquiesces 
at once in receiving the blessing for his sons, and in swearing 
faithfully that he would obey his father's wishes regarding 
his funeral obsequies. Amidst all the grandeur of earthly 
empire, he too had learned the superiority of spiritual to 
temporal good, and knew in what true greatness consisted. 
" His bow abode in strength, and the arms of his hands 
were made strong, by the hands of the mighty God of 
Jacob." I And this was what he coveted for his children. 
Many might call him fool and madman for casting away 
from him these golden prizes. He cared not. He loved 
their souls more than their earthly magnificence. He 

* Gen. xlvii. 29. f Gen. xlix. 29. J Gen. xlix. 24. 



A DISTANT SUNSET. 29 

would rather Lave God's blessing and poor Canaan, than 
rich Egypt without it. 

What a lesson for us ! Are we equally willing to barter 
temporal for spiritual good? Are we equally willing to 
cast aside the costly prize for our families, when we see' that 
the acceptance of it would endanger their spiritual interests ? 
In forming connexions in life — friendship connexions, 
marriage connexions, business connexions, trade connexions, 
— can we read this touching story of sons, father, and 
grandfather, and say with a good conscience, "We have 
done likewise?" that we have had respect — not to the 
gilded bauble, the high position, the dazzling honour, the 
brilliant earthly prospects — but that we have " had respect to 
the spiritual recompence of the reward ? " Are our fondest 
and most earnest prayers that our children be the children 
of the living God ? — that though they have little of this 
world's goods, they may be heirs of the incorruptible inherit- 
ance ? And when we come to die, what a lesson from the 
death-bed of Jacob, to have the one absorbing thought for 
ourselves and those near and dear to us, that we meet in the 
true Canaan ! His thoughts were wandering on the sunny 
pastoral hills and valleys of the covenant-land. Would this 
be our farewell prayer and longing, — " I die ! but I am only 
a pilgrim here : Canaan is my home/' I desire " a letter 
country, that is, an heavenly!' * 

But there are two other incidents mentioned in connexion 
with the blessing of the sons of Joseph to which we must 
advert. 

* Heb. si. 16. 



30 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

The first is, the giving the precedence in the blessing, not 
to Manasseh, but to his younger brother Ephraim. 

We read in the narrative, that Joseph took them both to 
the bedside of the sightless patriarch, " Ephraim in his 
rigid hand toward Israel's left hand, and Manasseh in his 
left hand toward Israel's right hand, and brought them 
near unto him. And Israel stretched out his right hand, 
and laid it upon Ephraim s head, ivho was the younger, 
and his left hand upon ManasseJis head, guiding his 
hands wittingly ; for Manasseh luas first-born." * Joseph 
remonstrated. He imagined it was the mistake of his 
father's blindness, and was rectifying it by transferring the 
hands so as to retain the right of primogeniture to Manasseh. 
But his father refused, saying, " / know it, my son, I know 
it," adding that, though Manasseh should be great, the 
younger son should be greater far, and his seed become " a 
multitude of nations." 

What was this but the foreshadow of a great truth, — the 
Gentile displacing and superseding the Jew. And surely it 
was only a further exemplification of Faith (implicit obe- 
dience to God's will and word) that Jacob persisted i n his 
determination to bestow the chief blessing on the younger. 
His mind had just been waudering on the land of covenant 
promise, and the spiritual blessings God had in store for his 
seed. Would it be easy for him, on natural grounds, to make 
the averment, or rather in his dying scene to give the signifi- 
cant sign that there was a time coming when these exclusive 
privileges of his children were to cease ; when his heirs and 
descendants (the Theocratic people) were themselves to be re- 

* Gen. xlviii. 13. 14. 



A DISTANT SUNSET. 31 

jected — their land and glory wrested from them — the en tail 
of spiritual privileges broken and given to others ? Add to 
this, must it not have cost him an effort thus to negative and 
thwart the wishes of so dutiful a son as Joseph, who was 
earnest that Manasseh should retain the right of the first- 
born? But he was divinely instructed otherwise; and he 
acted on the future apostolic maxim, " i" must obey God rather 
than men!' We read, " He guided his hands wittingly!' * He 
acted according to " the determinate counsel and foreknow- 
ledge of God." — The natural olive was to be cast out, and the 
wild olive graffed in. The fall of his own descendants was 
" to be the riches of the world ; " and this, (as God's will,) he 
boldly declares by the most expressive of symbolic actions. 
Oh, little did Egypt (where his dying-chamber was) know all 
that was signified for her in that closing transaction — the 
transference of the old man's hands from the head of Man- 
asseh to that of Ephraim ! It was a promise that is yet 
to be fully realised in the case of this "basest of king- 
doms," when, as part of the Gentile world, she shall listen to 
the glad tidings, and Egypt shall be u a blessing in the midst 
of the land : ivhom the Lord of hosts shall bless, saying, 
Blessed be Egypt my people .... and Israel mine inhe- 
ritance!' \ 

One other topic still remains in connexion with the bless- 
ing of Joseph's children. It is the naming of God under a 
twofold character. " God, before whom my fathers Abra- 
ham and Isaac did ivalk, the God which fed me all my 
life long unto this day, the Angel which redeemed me from 

* Gen. xlviii. 14. t Isa. xix 21, 25. 



32 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

all evil, bless the lads"* "God" — " the God that EED 
me; " — " the Angel," — " the God-angel that eedeemed me." 

He leaves the world exulting in Jehovah,- — first, as a God 
of Peovidence. " The God who fed me all my life long 
unto this day" 

He seems to delight to dwell on God's w T atchful care of 
him during the dark and troubled and chequered morning of 
his life. He loved to trace His hand amid all the vicissitudes 
of his eventful pilgrimage. May it not be to this fond me- 
mory of God, as a God of peovidence, that the apostle 
makes special reference, when he speaks of the dying man 
as "leaning on the top of his staff?" What was that staff? 
It had been his constant companion ; — the pilgrim prop 
which he had carried with him and treasured, ever since the 
dark and gloomy night he sped him a fugitive from his 
father's house ! He makes special mention of his " staff " on 
returning from his long sojourn in Mesopotamia. " With 
my staff I passed over this Jordan, and now I am be- 
come two bands" *f- He clung to his staff as the me- 
mento and memorial of many loving-kindnesses of Jehovah. 
He had flung it at his side on the night of the dream. It 
would be the first thing he grasped when he awoke in the 
morning, and said, "How dreadful is this place!" It was 
the same staff he had used, when he went forth a halting 
cripple from Peniel, when " the sinew shrank in the hollow of 
his thigh." Doubtless it was the same staff he had leant on, 
when he was bowed with grief at his successive trials ; — when 
" Joseph was not, and Simeon was not," and they threatened 
to " take Benjamin also ; " and it had formed the prop of his 

* den. xlix. 15, 16. f Geu. xxxiL 



A DISTANT SUNSET. 33 

tottering steps when he had come up to Egypt to see Joseph 
before he died. It was the souvenir alike of prosperity and 
adversity. If that shepherd's crook had been able to speak, 
it could have told many a tale of Providential kindness and 
faithfulness. And now, when, for the last time, he calls to 
mind " the God who fed him all his life long," we see Ihe aged 
patriarch strengthening himself on his bed, yet still " leaning 
on the top of his staff." It would be in patriarchal days 
what an underlined Bible or diary would be to a dying man 
in modern times : — a glance at it would aid memory in re- 
calling unnumbered instances of love and kindness. 

But the Apostle says more. Not only does he mention the 
"leaning on the staff," but he mentions also that "he wor- 
shipped." 

Whom did he worship ? Whom could he worship, but the 
Being of whom he speaks ? And who is this ? Let his own 
words tells us : — " God — the angel — who redeemed me." 
Oh, beautiful close to the life of Jacob ! He leans on the' 
staff of Providence, but he worships and adores the grace of 
a Eedeeming Saviour ! Christ is the last vision that floats 
before his dimming eye. He sees the cross of Calvary. He 
speaks of " Eedemption." He exults in One who had paid a 
costly price — who had "redeemed" him from all iniquity. 
He had wrestled once with that Angel at Jabbok, and now 
he beholds, in distant futurity, that Angel wrestling for him! 
What, then, is this, but Christ preached at Jacob's death-bed, 
— Christ the last word on his lips ? Like his father Abraham, 
"he sees the day of Christ afar off, and is glad ;" — the music 
of that name, in his case also, refreshing his soul in death. 
Come, let us stand by that pillow and learn the secret of a 



34 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

triumphant departure. See the old man, first so mindful of 
others, gathering his children and his children's children to 
his bed-side, and breathing on them a fond benediction. 
But he now turns to himself. He has settled accounts with 
those near and dear to him. He has taken a touching (I 
had almost said a sublime) farewell ; and now he begins to 
think of his own soul, and the great unknown on which he 
was about to enter. 

How does he enter the dark valley ? He seems to have 
caught up the words and the melody of a great descendant : 
" Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me ; yea, though I walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no 
evil : for thou art with me," * (Ps. xxiii.) Fetch me — he 
seems to say — that pilgrim-crook. These hands can grasp 
it, though these eyes can see it no more. I shall love once 
again to lean upon it, and get absorbed in the remembrance 
of a faithful, covenant-keeping God ! He does more. There 
is a brighter hope and nobler vision that fills his dying eye ; 
— a nobler prop on which his aged frame and spirit repose. 
The old wrestler of Jabbok is again by his side, unfolding to 
him the great Redemption. So overpowered does he seem 
with the vision, that in the midst of the blessing of his sons 
he is obliged to pause. He interrupts the prophetic strain 
as he clasps his aged hands in ecstasy, and exclaims, "I 
have ivaitedfor thy salvation, God." f "I have waited ;" 
"and now/' he seems to say, "I have found it ! " The chariots of 
salvation and the horses of fire are ready to bear him to "the 
Angel's " presence — the true Peniel — where he will see God 

* See Sermon on this subject by Eev. H. Melvill, B.D. 
f Gen. xlxix. 18. 



A DISTANT SUNSET. So 

" face to face." Like the patriarch of a future age, he had 
taken Christ in the arms of his faith, and he breathed away 
his spirit in a rapture of gospel triumph, — "Now, Lord, 
lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy 
word, for vnne eyes have seen thy salvation! " * 
* Luke ii. 2$. 



lit 

xnmt an ifatit <%jpraim. 



" Of life's past toils, the fading trace 
Hath given that aged patriarch's face 
Expression holy, deep, resign'd, 
The calm sublimity of mind. 
Years o'er his snowy head have past, 
And left him of his race the last, 
Alone on earth ; but yet his mien 
Is bright with majesty serene : 
And those high hopes, whose guiding star 
Shines from eternal worlds afar, 
Have with that light illumed his eye 
Whose fount is immortality ; 
And o'er his features poured a ray 
Of glory, not to pass away ; 
One to sublimer worlds allied, 
One from all passions purified,— 
Even now half mingled with the sky, 
And all prepared, oh, not to die, 
But, like the prophet, to aspire 
To heaven's triumphal car of fire ! " 

— IlEMANS. 

,e And it came to pass after these things, that Joshua the son of Nun, 
the servant of the Lord, died, being an hundred and ten years old. And 
they buried him in the border of his inheritance in Timnath-serah, which 
is in mount Ephraim, on the north side of the hill of Gaash." — Joshua 
xxiv. 29, 30. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. 

Heee is a glorious orb in ths old world sinking peacefully to 
rest behind tlie pastoral hills of Ephraim. 

Joshua was in every sense of the word a great character, 
a saintly hero, — the man not only of his age, but of many 
ages. If his name do not shine so conspicuously amid the 
galaxy of patriarchs and ancient worthies, it is very much 
because, as has been said of him, " the man himself is eclipsed 
by the brilliancy of his deeds :" — like the sun in a gorgeous 
western sky, when the pile of amber clouds — the golden lin- 
ings and drapery with which he is surrounded — pale the 
lustre of the great luminary. 

His was a varied and chequered career. What strange 
and stirring memories must have floated before his mental 
vision as now he closed his eyes in the quiet valley of Tim- 
nath-serah! Thirty-eight years he had been in Egypt — fa- 
miliar from his childhood with the tale of his brethren's 
bondage and oppression; — his young soul stung to the quick 
by their sufferings, and doubtless burning with ardent 
enthusiasm to redress their wrongs. His fond lon£mo-s 
had been realised. He had taken no inconspicuous part 
in that marvellous exodus — when, in one night, a million 
slaves burst their fetters. For forty years he shared their 
toils and dangers in the Sinai deserts, amidst architecture 
grander and more imposing than the colossal forms of Egypt 



38 SUNSETS ON THE HEBKEW MOUNTAINS. 

— " temples not made with hands." He had triumphantly 
crossed the Jordan, — conquered the land which had glad- 
dened the dying vision of Jacob and Joseph, — and struck 
terror and awe into the Canaanitish nations. First in the 
south, and then in the north, the warrior tribes bowed before 
his whirlwind marches. For several years previous to his 
death he was allowed to see the covenant people reposing 
under the shelter of their vines and fig-trees — the "sword 
turned into the ploughshare." 

Of his last hours we know nothing. There are no remark- 
able incidents or details mentioned, as in the closing scene 
of Jacob's life. We have no family partings — no prophetic 
benedictions. He himself, we have every reason to believe, 
was the writer of the book which bears his name ; and after 
his own final entry, another sacred recorder appends the post- 
cript : "And it came to pass after these things, that Joshua 
the son of Nun, the servant of the Lord, died, being an hun- 
dred and ten years old. And they buried him in the border 
of his inheritance in Timnath-serah, which is in mount 
Ephraim, on the north side of the hill of Gaash!' 

This is a brief obituary. It allows no scope for imagina- 
tion to paint the scene of the dying hero. If ever one was 
worthy of martial honours, it was he. The chivalry of Israel 
might well have gathered around his grave. His bier might 
have been covered with crowns of vanquished kings ; even 
the savage warriors he had humbled, might not have refused 
to come and do homage to his valour. But his Life is his 
noblest monument ; — His vast and varied achievements are 
his best panegyric. Let us gather, in thought, around that 
solitary tomb " on the north dele of the hill of Gaash." We 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. 39 

can read the epitaph of "the man of God" as well as of the 
warrior and the patriot — " He being dead yet speaketh ! " 

Four elements of strength appear to stand out conspicu- 
ously in Joshua's character, and which distinguish him pre- 
eminently in the Old Testament as " the Warrior Saint." 

First, Zeal for God's honour. 

This seemed to have been his paramount aim and motive 
through life. We trace, through all the vicissitudes of his 
history, a beautiful and never- varying abnegation of self, and 
exaltation of his great Lord — stripping himself of all per- 
sonal glory, and giving the glory to whom alone it is due. 

Take some examples : — 

Witness at the miraculous passage through Jordan, when 
twelve stones are taken from the channel and set up in the 
fortified camp at Gilgal. " What mean ye by these stones ? " 
Are they to perpetuate the completion of his campaign, that 
future generations may associate these river-banks with the 
name of the hero-leader ? Nay — " And he spake unto the 
children of Israel, saying, When your children shall ask their 
fathers in time to come, saying, What mean these stones? 
then ye shall let your children know, saying, Israel came 
over this Jordan on dry land. For the Lord your God dried 
up the waters of Jordan from before you, until ye were 
passed over, as the Lord your God did to the Red Sea, which 
he dried up from before us, until we were gone over : that all 
the people of the earth might know the hand of the Lord, 
that it is mighty : that ye might fear the Lord your God for 
ever!"* 

When, under the walls of Jericho, a warrior-form with " a 

* Josh. iv. 21-24. 



40 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

sword drawn in his hand " stood " over against him." How 
does he receive the mysterious stranger ? Flushed with pre- 
vious successes, does he spurn the proffered assistance, and 
haughtily disdain the thought of any other, human, angelic 
or divine, dividing with him the glory of new conquests? 
No ! When he heard from those august lips the announce- 
ment, " As captain of the Lord's host I am come ! " the 
champion of Israel unlooses his shoe, in token of homage and 
deferential adoration. He bows his head in the dust, and, 
seeking no honour for himself, asks in simple faith the ques- 
tion, " What saith my Lord unto his servant ? " * 

Jericho and Ai have been conquered, and the key to the 
whole land is thus in the hands of the commander of the 
Israelite host. But before another sword is drawn, or mar- 
tial bugle sounded, a religious convocation is appointed. 
The tones of the silver trumpets convene the whole army at 
the base of Mount Ebal ; and, (in noble keeping with the 
monument erected after his first battle in Rephiclim, with the 
inscription, " Jehovah-nissi, the Lord is my banner,") Joshua 
rears an altar of gratitude " to the Lord God of Israel/' f 

Somewhere in the twilight of his life, when he imagined 
his end was drawing near, although he seems to have been 
spared, for some years afterwards, we read, " And Joshua 
called for all Israel, and for their elders, and for their heads, 
and for their judges, and for their officers" And how does 
he address them ? Is it the warrior's stirring appeal to arms 
and fresh conquests ; or the man of political sagacity and 
wordly wisdom sj eking to consolidate his kingdom by arts of 
statecraft ? No ! it is the burning desire of his nobler nature 

* Josli. v. 14-. t Josh. viii. 30. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. 41 

to have another opportunity of ascribing all the glory of past 
victories to Jehovah, and of securing for Him the willing: 
homage and obedience of the nation. Hear the opening 
sentence — it is the key-note to the whole address : — " Ye have 
seen all that the Lord your God hath done unto all the 
nations because of you : for the Lord your God is He that 
hath fought for you."* 

How different from the tone of other oriental conquerors ! 
How different from the promptings of nature ! " By the 
strength of my hand I have done it, and by my wisdom; 
for I am prudent." *(• The old hero convenes the aristoc- 
racy of the land — officers, elders, magistrates, — to give them 
a farewell charge; — and his first act is to tear every chap- 
let from his own brow, and to cast these at the feet of his 
father's God ! If he had given vent to the emotions of his 
heart in strains of sacred song, they would have been aidn to 
those sung, in a future age, by the minstrel of the universal 
Church, as he reverted to this same bright epoch in their 
early history — " They got not the land in possession by their 
own sword, neither dial their own arm save them : but thy 
right hand, and thine arm, and the light of thy countenance, 
because thou hadst a favour unto them."% 

A few years after this convocation at Shiloh, a final and 
still more impressive one took place at Shechem. The aged 
chief feels that the shadows are lengthening, that the silver 
cord must soon be loosed, the golden bowl soon broken. 
Might not he be well permitted to remain undisturbed in the 
peaceful seclusion of his inheritance, and leave the tribes with 
the faithful counsels he had already given them ? What 

* Josh, xxiii. 2, 3. f Isa. s. 13. J Ps. xliv. 3. 



42 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

need of again invading his dignified repose ? May not the 
entire consecration of his former years be pleaded as a valid 
reason for exemption from farther public duty ? Nay ! the 
venerable father (for he WAS the father — the oldest man in all 
Israel,) feels that life to the last has its solemn responsibilities. 
He seems to have caught up the words and spirit of a future 
apostle, " Yea, I think it meet as long as I am in this taber- 
nacle, to stir you up by putting you in remembrance, know- 
ing that shortly I must put off this my tabernacle." And 
forth he comes, with patriarchal mien and silvered locks, from 
his dwelling in Mount Ephraim, to give the final exhortation, 
— to bear the final witness for his God, ere his lips are sealed 
for ever. As he began, so he finishes — " The Lord our God, 
He it is that brought us up out of the land of Egypt!' Oh, 
sweeter to him than the strains of sweetest earthly music 
must have been that parting burst from the assembled tribes 
that rang through the rugged defile ! It was the echo of his 
own life-thoughts. It seemed like the anointing for his own 
burial as he departed for the last time from the host, never 
to see them again : — " The people said unto Joshua, The Lord 
our God ivill ive serve, and his voice will we obey ! " 

How stands it with us ? Are God's glory and honour para- 
mount ? or are we content with seeking our own glory, our 
own projects of self-aggrandisement and worldly ambition ; 
living for anything but the God who loved us, and the 
Saviour who died for us ? If the Israel of a succeeding age 
had taken heed to the words of their hero-leader, it would 
have saved them many a conflict ; much bloodshed, humilia- 
ation, and disaster. Contrary to his dying advice, they did 
tamper with the neighbouring idolatrous nations, and entered 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. 43 

on forbidden fellowships. The purity of worship was cor- 
rupted, Jehovah was displeased, and vengeance followed. 
" Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil 
heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God."* Faith- 
ful to Him, he will be faithful to you. His own promise will 
be verified in your experience as in that of Joshua, " Them 
that honour me, I will honour !" 

A second feature in Joshua's character was his deference 
to God's law. 

We have just seen that, warrior as he was, he rejoiced in 
acknowledging his own subordination to a Greater than him- 
self. Like every true and loyal soldier, he acted up to the 
orders of his superior. When, on the death of Moses, God 
invested him with the responsible post of commander-in-chief 
of the army of Israel, the first — the only injunction which, 
with reiterated emphasis, was laid upon him was this — " Only 
be thou strong, and very courageous, that thou mayest ob- 
serve to do according to all the laiv which Moses my servant 
commanded thee : turn not from it to the right hand or to 
the left, that thou mayest prosper whithersoever thou goest 
This booh of the laiv shall not depart out of thy moutli ; but 
thou shalt meditate therein day and night, that thou mayest 
observe to do according to all that is written therein : for 
then thou shalt make thy way prosperous, and then thou 
shalt have good success." f 

It is a noble and interesting picture, to see the youthful 
soldier, ay, — and when the ardour of youthful enthusiasm had 
passed away, and care was furrowing his brow, — to see the 
aged warrior retiring amid the seclusion of his own tent, and 

* Heb. iii. 12. + Josh. i. 7, 8. 



44 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

poring over the sacred law transmitted to him by his great 
predecessor. If any could ever plead lack of time or of leisure, 
surely it would be this great man, who had the burden of thou- 
sands upon thousands on his shoulders ; and whose whole life 
was one long warlike march, — the sword scarce ever sheathed 
or, the armour ungirded ! But he was faithful to the great 
trust confided to him. His guiding principle was unde- 
viating adherence to the Divine word and will. 

See how the Law of God is honoured in that sublime con- 
vocation we have already referred to, at Mount Ebal and 
Gerizim. One portion of the tribes, — the chiefs, the judges, 
the officers, the elders. — stood on the one mountain, and an- 
other portion on the other ; while the sacred ark, guarded by 
the priests, was in the valley beneath. It was the Word of 
God that awoke those silent echoes ! " And Joshua read all 
the words of the law, the blessings and cursings, according to 
all that is written in the booh of the law!' * The six tribes on 
dark and gloomy Ebal, thundered out its curses ; and back 
from the greener slopes of Gerizim, from the corresponding 
number of tribes, were echoed the blessings ; while from the 
serried ranks that thronged both hills, there followed the loud 
" Amen ! " — the solemn national subscription to each bless- 
ing and curse of that precious Word. To crown and per- 
petuate all ; — on that commemorative " altar of whole stones " 
which Joshua reared on Mount Ebal, a copy of the law of 
Moses was written or engraven by his own hand, in presence 
of the assenting multitude. 

This convocation of the tribes took place while yet they 
were engaged in the strife of conquest, — a solemn breathing- 

* Josh viii. 34. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. 45 

time amid the din and dust of battle. But when " the land 
had rest from war" and Joshua was drawing near the close 
of his eventful life, so far from his love and veneration for 
•chat law suffering any diminution, he seems to rejoice in it 
still, "as one that findeth great spoil/' While he could 
say, in reverting to the past, " Thy statutes have been my 
songs in the house of my pilgrimage," it seems no less to 
be his experience when old and grey-headed, "Thy testi- 
monies are my delight and my counsellors." On that same 
occasion to which reference lias already been made, when 
in the decline of years the aged chieftain gathered together 
the tribes from their different inheritances, still does he revert 
to the same theme. He tells them as the secret of his own suc- 
cess, and he would urge it upon them as the secret of theirs, 
" Be ye therefore very courageous, to keep and to do all 
that is written in the booh of the law of Moses ; that ye 
turn not aside therefrom to the right hand or to the left!' * 
And ao;ain, as he had done years before at Ebal, he 
took means alike to perpetuate his own sacred counsel and 
the vow of the people. He transcribed the account of the 
whole transaction into the copy of the book of the law 
which was kept in the ark ; and then a huge stone was set 
up under a terebinth, as a silent attestation to the oath of 
the tribes. "And Joshua said unto all the people, Behold, 
this stone shall be a witness unto us ; for it hath heard all 
the words of the Lord which he spake unto us : it shall there- 
fore be a witness unto you, lest ye deny your God." f 
What a lesson for us ! He had but a fragment of that 
divine law — the books of Moses (the Pentateuch and the 

* Josli. xxiii. 6. + Josli. xxiv. 27. 



46 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

"book of Job) were all liis Bible. Yet see how lie makes it 
" the man of his counsel/' — pleads earnestly with the people 
to take heed to its sacred utterances, and to regulate their 
lives by its lofty requirements ! 

Amid the duties and difficulties, the cares and per- 
plexities of life, how many a pang and tear would it save us, 
if we went with chastened and inquiring spirits to these 
sacred oracles ? How many trials would be mitigated, — how 
many sorrows soothed, and temptations avoided, — if we pre- 
ceded every step in life with the inquiry, " What saith the 
Scripture ? " How few, it is to be feared, make (as they 
should do) the Bible a final court of appeal — an arbiter for 
the settlement of all the vexed questions in the consistory of 
the soul. God keep us from that saddest phase and dogma 
of modern infidelity, — the Sacred Volume classed among the 
worn and effete books of the past ! God keep us from re- 
garding His lively oracles with only that misnamed " vene- 
ration" which the antiquary bestows on some piece of 
mediaeval armour — a relic and memorial of bygone days, but 
unsuitable for an age which has superseded the cruder views 
of these old " chroniclers/' and inaugurated a new era of reli- 
gious development. Vain dreamers ! " For ever, God, 
thy word is settled in heaven." " The law of the Lord is 
perfect, converting the soul ; the testimony of the Lord is 
sure, making wise the simple" " The word of the Lord 
is tried." " Thy ivord is very sure, therefore thy servant 
loveth it." "What a crowd of witnesses could be summoned 
to give personal evidence of its preciousness and value. 
How many aching heads would raise themselves from their 
pillows and tell of their obligations to its soothing messages 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. 47 

of love and power ! How many death-beds could send their 
occupants with pallid lips to tell of the staff which upheld 
them in the dark valley ! How many, in the hour of bereave- 
ment, could lay their finger on the promise that first dried 
the tear from their eye, and brought back the smile to their 
saddened countenances ! How many voyagers in life's tem- 
pestuous ocean, now landed on the heavenly shore, would be 
ready to hush their golden harps and descend to earth with 
the testimony, that this was the blessed beacon-light which 
enabled them to avoid the treacherous reefs, and guided them 
to their desired haven ! 

Ah, Philosopliy ! thou hast never yet, as this Book, taught 
a man how to die ! Reason ! with thy flickering torch, thou 
hast never yet guided to such sublime mysteries, such com- 
forting truths as these ! Science ! thou hast penetrated the 
arcana of nature, sunk thy shafts into earth's recesses, un- 
buried its stores, counted its .strata., measured the height of 
its massive pillars, down to the very pedestals of primeval 
granite. Thou hast tracked the lightning, traced the path 
of the tornado, uncurtained the distant planet, foretold the 
coming of the comet, and the return of the eclipse. But 
thou hast never been able to guage the depths of man's soul ; 
or to answer the question, " What must I do to be saved ? " 

No, no ; this antiquated volume is still the " Book of 
books/' the oracle of oracles, the beacon of beacons ; the poor 
man's treasury ; the child's companion ; the sick man's health ; 
the dying man's life ; shallows for the infant to walk in, — 
depths for giant intellect to explore and adore ! Philo- 
sophy, if she would but own it, is indebted here for the 
noblest of her maxims: — Poetry for the loftiest of her 



48 SUNSETS ON THE IIEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

themes. Painting has gathered here her noblest inspiration. 
Music has ransacked these golden stores for the grandest of 
her strains. And if there be life in the Church of Christ, — ■ 
if her ministers and missionaries are carrying the torch of 
salvation through the world, — where is that torch lighted, 
but at these same undying altar-fires ? When a philosophy, 
" falsely so called," shall become dominant, and seek, with its 
proud dogmas, to supersede this divine philosojohy ; — when 
the old Bible of Joshua, and David, and Timothy, and Paul, is 
clasped and closed, — the only morality and philosophy worth 
speaking of, will have perished from the earth. Dagon will 
have taken the place of Cod's ark — the world's funeral pile 
may be kindled ! 

Love your Bibles. As they are the souvenirs of your 
earliest childhood ; — the gift of a mother's love, or the pledge 
of a father's affection ; — so let them be your last and fondest 
treasures, — the keepsakes and heirlooms which you are most 
desirous to transmit to your children's children. 

A third feature in the character of Joshua was, depend- 
ence on God's strength. 

" Certainly I ivill be with thee/' was the guarantee with 
which he accepted his onerous responsibilities as leader of 
the many thousands of Israel. " As I have been with Moses, 
so will I be with thee" " Have not I commanded thee ? 
Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be 
thou dismayed : for the Lord thy God is with thee ivhitlier* 
soever thou goest." These assurances seem to have rung 
their echoes in his ear from the moment he entered on his 
gigantic task. In the hour of disaster he casts himself 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. 49 

humbled before the " Eock of his strength." He tempers and 
glorifies the hour of victory by ascribing all the praise to 
the same " God of Jeshurun." On the occasion of the tem- 
porary repulse at Ai, — when the picked men of the host 
fled panic-stricken before the Canaanite warriors, " and the 
hearts of the people melted and became like water," — where 
do we find their leader ? Is he (stung with the humiliation 
of defeat) venting his wrath against the demoralised army ? 
twitting the vanquished with their cowardice ? or, worse, in 
sullen remorse upbraiding his God for desertion at this 
crisis-hour? Nay, we see him prone on the earth, with dust 
on his head, and his garments rent, before the ark of the 
Lord. The men of Ai, flushed with victory, may, for aught 
he knows, be in hot pursuit down through their gorges to 
Gilgal. It matters not. He neither fears nor trusts to an 
arm of flesh. Nor is this a mere momentary burst of impas- 
sioned prayer. In that posture he and his elders continue 
till even- tide, jealous for the glory of his God, and acknow- 
ledging His hand alone in the discomfiture. Thus does the 
prostrate leader urge his sacred suit : " Lord, what shall 
I say, when Israel turneth their backs before their enemies ? 
For the Canaanites, and all the inhabitants of the land, 
shall hear of it, and shall environ us round, and cut off 
our name from the earth : and what wilt thou do unto thy 
great name ? " 

Or turn to the brightest episode — the most picturesque 
and chivalrous chapter in all Joshua's history — his campaign 
against the Amorite kings, and subjugation of Southern 
Canaan. , 

The five kings of the south had become confederate 

D 



50 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAIN'S. 

against the Gibeonites. These latter, in their hour of immi- 
nent peril, resolved to seek the assistance of Joshua. Am- 
bassadors from their helpless city appear one afternoon at the 
camp of Gilgal with the importunate request — "Slack not 
thy hand from thy servants; come up to us quickly, and 
save us, and help us." Joshua at once perceives the urgency 
of the crisis. It is his own cause fully more than that of 
the Gibeonites. He responds at once to the call of duty and 
danger. Nor need he hesitate. The God who nerved his 
arm has given him the assurance, " Fear them not : for I 
have delivered them into tldne hand ; there shall not a man 
of them stand before thee." 

Not a moment, however, is to be lost. At the ordinary 
rate of marching, it will take three days to reach the belea- 
guered garrison. The tidings reach Joshua at eventide, and, 
ere the sun has gone down on the heights of Jericho, the 
army is in motion, and by a rapid starlight march, early 
morning brings them face to face with their foe. The war- 
note sounds ! the battle closes ! and the five confederate 
armies, — broken and scattered, — flee headlong down the 
western passes of Benjamin ; thence upwards by the heights 
of Beth-horon. Joshua is in hot pursuit. The victory cannot 
be complete unless advantage be taken of the panic. If they 
slack their march, or if the shadows of evening fall before 
they have overtaken the fugitives, the broken ranks of the 
enemy may on the morrow be rallied, and another bloody 
struggle undo the triumph of to-day. What can he devise ? 
One night and morning have worked marvels. Heroism 
could do no more ; — three days' march compressed into one ; 
—five puissant kings with disciplined troops humbled and 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. 51 

discomfited by a tribe of desert wanderers. Faint and 
weary as these brave heroes are, they would willingly yet 
struggle on for hours to finish their mission of death and 
victory. But they cannot fight against nature — they cannot 
contend with impossibilities. Joshua,, at the head of the 
Beth-horon mountain-ridge, gazes along to his right on the 
undulating hills which now hide Gibeon from view. He 
sees the sun hanging over them in fiery lustre, — that blazing 
lamp which had looked down upon their fearful struggle 
during the long morning, till noonday heat, perhaps, com- 
pelled the weary warriors to pause for a breath under the 
shadow of the surrounding rocks. The enemy had more to 
contend with than the swords of the Israelites. As in a future 
campaign " the stars in their courses fought against Sisera," 
so now the very elements of nature become confederate with 
Joshua, and wage vengeance on the foe. The terrific hail- 
storm — truly " the hail of God" — arrows from the Almighty's 
quiver — was driving in the faces of the broken chivalry of 
Canaan, and "the faint figure of the crescent moon visible 
above the hail-storm " * rose over the green valley of Ajalon, 
down which the discomfited legions were pouring in wild 
confusion. 

Can He who maketh the " fire and hail, snow and vapour, 
stormy wind to fulfil His word" — can He who "appoint- 
etli the moon for seasons, and the sun to know his going 
down," — can He not, if he please, arrest the movements 
of nature, even should it be to stay the orbs of heaven in 
their course ? Can He not rein in these fiery coursers, put 
a drag on these burning chariot-wheels, as He did on those of 

* Stanley's " Sinai and Palestine," p. 208. 



52 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

Pharaoh in the depths of the sea 1 Can He not lengthen out 
this momentous day, and suffer neither sun nor moon to stir 
from their places, until victory resound through the hosts of 
Israel ? 

So mused Joshua, as he stood in silent contemplation on 
these memorable heights. " Then spake Joshua to the Lord 
in the day when the Lord delivered up the Amorites before 
the children of Israel; and he said in the sight of Israel, 
Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon ; and thou, Moon, in the 
valley of Ajalon. And the sun stood still, and the moon 
stayed, until the people had avenged themselves upon their 
enemies. . . . And there was no day like that before it or 
after it, that the Lord hearkened unto the voice of a man: 
for the Lord fought for Israel."* 

We pause not to ask any curious questions as to how 
this miracle can be reconciled with the conditions of modern 
science, although we believe it can, without impairing the 
reality of the miracle. We advert to it at present as a 
beautiful testimony to Joshua's dependence on the omnipo- 
tence of God. "Is anything too hard for the Lord?" was 
the inmost thought of his soul, when he ventured on the 
strange request. The two obedient orbs were arrested till the 
triumph was complete, and till they beheld, from their silent 
thrones, the five warlike kings mingling with the trophies of 
that bloody day. 

And how terminates the record of this bright and brilliant 

campaign, — the Marathon of ancient Canaan? We extract 

it from the book of Joshua (and remember, Joshua was 

himself the recorder of the fact and of the cause assigned 

* Josh. x. 12-14. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. 53 

for it): — "And all these Icings and their land did Joshua 
take at one time, because the Lord God of Isiiael 

FOUGHT FOR ISRAEL." * 

Would that, in our seasons of sorrow, and trial, and threat- 
ened bereavement, we could imitate the faith of this hero- 
saint. When some "sun," some orb of earthly joy is threat- 
ening to set in the darkness of death, can that same omni- 
potent One who said, "Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon ; 
and thou, Moon, in the valley of Ajalon" can He not still, 
as of old, in answer to prayer, command these lights of our 
firmament to "stand still/' and forbid them "going down 
while it is yet day ? " Why should we " limit the Holy One 
of Israel V Is the Lord's hand shortened since the days 
of Joshua that it cannot save? 

What a lesson, too, of dependence on Almighty strength 
in spiritual exigences ! And the beautiful and instructive 
example, in the case of Israel's leader, is, that his is nc 
rash or feverish fanaticism — no blind fatalism — no unwar- 
rantable trust in extraordinary or superhuman agency, so 
as to permit dispensing with human effort. There is the 
fine combination of entire dependence on God, with the 
conviction of human responsibility, as if each warlike 
movement depended on his own personal prowess. He 
had the firm persuasion that in himself he had no power 
against these giant walls or confederate multitudes. He 
went in "the strength of the Lord his God." But even 
after receiving the assurance of Divine aid, and the promise 
of victory, there was no relaxation of personal effort. Never 
did soldier go forth with a more firm resolve to do Lis 
* Josh. x. 42. 



54 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

duty. The assurance of triumph did not tempt him to defer 
his midnight march on Gibeon, or lessen his resolve to strike 
a sudden blow. It is said of him "he drew not back his 
hand when he stretched out his spear; " and yet, at the same 
time, no warrior of Scripture story bears about with him a 
more habitual recognition of the truth that " the shields of 
the earth belong only to God." Let the same beautiful com- 
bination be ours ! — a simple dependence on the grace and 
strength of God, — cherishing habitually the feeling that if a 
better Canaan ever be ours, "not unto us, not unto us/' but 
unto God be the glory, — and yet acting as if all depended on 
ourselves. The two are not incompatible. It will always be 
found that those who are the most earnest workers are those 
who exercise the most childlike trust in a higher strength. 
The oars are strong, but we must ply them if we would over- 
come the opposing current. The armour may be well proved, 
but we must assay it if we would gain the battle. "Prayer 
and pains," said the missionary Elliot, "can do anything;" 
and this was in spirit Joshua's motto and watchword. He 
who had boldness to tell sun and moon to " stand still" is 
the same we see lying prostrate for hours in prayer within 
the camp of Gilgal. His life is one of the many testimonies 
that it is the men of prayer who are men of power. The 
first time he is brought before our notice is as the young 
warrior fighting the veteran hosts of Amalek at Rephidim ; 
but he looks up to the adjoining mount and beholds Moses 
with his hands uplifted in prayer — " Out of weakness he is 
made strong, waxes valiant in fight, and turns to flight the 
armies ot the aliens/' 

This is a picture of every Christian still. He is the sue- 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. 55 

cessfui Joshua in the plain, because he looks with the eye of 
faith to the great pleading Intercessor on the true mount in 
heaven, whose hands never "grow heavy ;" for " He fainteth 
not, neither is weary/' " Unless the Lord had been my 
help, my soid had almost dwelt in silence. When I said, 
My foot slippeth; thy mercy, Lord, held me wp." * 

Let ns advert to one other element in Joshua's character. 
Trust in God's faithfulness. 

This was only the necessary concomitant and result of the 
preceding. Let us speak of it more in connexion with the 
closing period of his life, when he came to take a retrospect 
of his past history. 

When he first undertook to lead the armies of Israel, this 
was the warrant and encouragement on which he set out : — 
"I the Lord am with thee whithersoever thou goest." No 
promise could have been stronger or more unqualified. 
" There shall not any man be able to stand before thee all 
the days of thy life. As I was with Moses, so will I be 
with thee. I will not fail thee nor forsake thee." 

Have these repeated asseverations been rigidly fulfilled ? 
Has "He been faithful that promised?''' 

" Yes," says Joshua ; " God has been true to His word. He 
has been better than His word ! " When the land had been 
partitioned to the various tribes, he records this emphatic 
attestation, " There failed not ought of any good thing which 
the Lord had spoken unto the house of Israel : all came to 
pass."-\ 

It is a beautiful picture to see this burning and shining 

* Ps. xciv. 17, 18. f Josh. xxi. 45 



56 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

light of the old firmament nearing his glorious sunset! 
— this old warrior of Israel thus coming forth from the 
seclusion of his old age to bear witness to the faithfulness of 
a promising God ! His public work is over — his sword is 
sheathed — his spear and shield are resting as proud trophies 
in his family halls at Timnath, never more to be taken down. 
But he appears once more as the great apostle of the cove- 
nant people, to pour upon them his benediction, and make a 
farewell acknowledgment of God's gracious and unchang- 
ing fidelity. 

Though " old and stricken in years," he was yet strong in 
body as he was strong in faith ; and able with his tongue to 
give glory to God. He seems to catch animation and power 
from the spectacle before him ; — the thousands of Israel, that 
loved him as a father, gathering at his call, and listening 
with bated breath to his last words. Imagine the scene S as 
with simple but noble eloquence, the patriarch warrior makes 
the appeal, " Choose you this day whom ye will serve; 
whether the gods which your Fathers served that ivere on the 
other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose 
land ye dwell. But as for me and my house, we will serve 
the Lord!" The enthusiasm of the speaker seems to be 
communicated to his hearers ! With tumultuous acclamation 
they make the united response, "And the people answered 
and said, God forbid thai tue should forsake the Lord, to 
serve other gods. . . . therefore will we also serve the Lord; 
for he is our God ! "*■ 

We like to hear (there is always weight and authority) in 
the sayings of the aged. There are no words that corns to. 

* Josh. xxiv. 18. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. O? 

us in our pulpits with such solemnity and interest as those 
spoken by the veteran warriors of the cross — patriarchs in 
Israel ; — whose shattered bark has braved many a storm, and 
whose brows are furrowed with life's deep and changing 
experiences. And if the man, moreover, has been conspi- 
cuous in the world — one of towering intellect, or brilliant 
genius, or illustrious deeds — with all the greater interest do 
we hang upon his lips. 

Such was Joshua. Come : thou mighty man of valour ! 
thou before whom " kings of armies did flee apace ! " Come, 
tell us, in the evening of thy life, what is thy experience. 

Hear it : — " Behold, this day I am going the way of all the 
earth : and ye know in all your hearts and in all your soids 
that not one thing hath failed of all the good things which 
the Lord your God spake concerning you ; all are come to 
pass unto you, and not one thing hath failed thereof"* 

If we (like Joshua) combine the power of faith with the 
power of earnest effort ; if we use the two means which he 
seems specially to have used, (the word of God and prayer,) 
like him, we shall be able at our dying hour, to declare the 
faithfulness of the Lord, and to say, in the words of a future 
leader of Israel, who in no small degree inherited Joshua's 
spirit, " Come, hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare 
ivhat he hath done for my soid/'-f As sure as Joshua's zeal 
and trust and fortitude crowned his arms with victory, — so 
surely, if we, in the noble gospel sense, " quit us like men, 
and be strong," God will give us the rest He promises — the 
rest which remains for His people. Joshua's "good success" 
has in it a higher spiritual meaning and interpretation. It 

* Josh, xxiii. 1L f Ps. lxvi. 16. 



58 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

was written " for our admonition, on whom the ends of the 
world have come." And this is the burden of the spiritual 
promise, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee 
the crown of life.'Y 



J 



Let us learn, in conclusion, the same great practical lesson 
we shall have so often to note in connexion with these ancient 
worthies — the influence that a great and good man exercises 
on others. The influence of Joshua was felt for a whole 
generation. At the close of that last stirring appeal — (his 
farewell address) — the concluding words of the record, written 
by his own hand, were these, "So Joshua let the people de- 
part, every man unto his inheritance." It is a mere casual 
remark, a simple winding up of the story, and yet imagina- 
tion loves to dwell on that "departure." We picture group 
upon group wending their way along highway and valley ; — 
some immersed in deep thought, others breaking forth in the 
votive soliloquy, "Nay, but we will serve the Lord :" — others, 
as they reached their homes, pouring out their full hearts to 
their children, repeating the words of the saintly warrior. 
Ay, and in future ages, on their way to the feasts, as many 
passed by that stone under the Terebinth at Shechem, how 
would it recall the living voice of the hero, and enforce, 
in silent impressiveness, the terms of his covenant. 

This we know at all events, that the fragrance of his good 
words and deeds survived his death. The writer, whoever 
he be, who records his departure and burial, adds the brief 
notice — it is the best funeral oration that could be pro- 
nounced over his grave, — " And Israel served the Lord all 

* Rev. ii. 10. 






SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEA1M. 59 

the days of Joshua, and all the days of the elders that over- 
lived Joshua, and which had known all the works of the 
Lord that he had done for Israel."* 

Joshua was a great man, and his influence was therefore 
correspondingly great. But each one, however lowly be 
their sphere, may exercise a similar influence for good. 
They may erect their Shechem-stone, and their children's 
children may catch inspiration from lips which death has 
long ago silenced ! As the youth, plunged amid the tempta- 
tions of a city life, opens his desk, his eye may light on a 
Shechem-stone — the last letter of a parent's affection, full of 
the yearnings of holy solicitude ; or the Bible, with its fly- 
leaf blotted with a mothers love and tears. That mother 
may have been sleeping quietly for years under some yew- 
tree in a village church-yard hundreds of miles away ; but 
her voice still speaks, — the old tones, choked with tears, 
are heard, — the hand that was wont to be laid on his head 
in prayer as he knelt on her lap, knocks at his heart-door, 
and does not knock in vain ! 

Happy and honoured are they who, like Joshua, can give 
a bold, outspoken testimony to the truth ! Though he died 
amid the affections of a loving people, his was not an in- 
fluence or an attachment purchased by any base or unworthy 
compromise of principle. There was no truckling to their 
weaknesses or foibles. It was the influence of a faithful as 
well as kind man. He was one of those "righteous" who are 
as " bold as a lion." One of his last utterances was a faith- 
ful warning — a warning off from that very rock on which 
thousands on thousands are at this day making shipwreck — ■ 

* Josh. xxiv. 31. 



60 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

a false and ungospel trust in the mere mercy of God, — a 
sinful and unwarrantable ignoring of God in his character of 
the Just, and Holy, and Righteous One ! "And Joshua said 
unto them, Ye cannot serve the Lord : for lie is an holy God ; 
He is a jealous God ; He ivill not forgive your transgres- 
sions nor your sins. If ye forsake the Lord, and serve 
strange gods, then He ivill turn and do you hurt, and con- 
sume you, after that he hath done you good." 

Did the people resent his manly straightforward declara- 
tion ? Nay, they loved him too much, — they trusted him too 
much, — to take offence at these bold averments ; their voices 
again rang through the defile, "Nay, but we will serve the 
Lord." 

Are we ready to go and do likewise ? Are we ready, like 
the tribes of Israel, anew to subscribe our covenant, and to 
say with a more earnest resolve, that "whatsoever others 
do, as for us we will serve the Lord V We may well take 
the life of this brave and good man as an outline — a model 
— for our imitation, in fighting "the good fight of faith, and 
laying hold of eternal life ! " A life of calm trust and 
submission to the divine will brought with it a peaceful and 
tranquil departure. : ; Hear how he speaks of death — " I am 
going the ivay of all the earth!' He looks on the world he 
is soon about to leave — What does he see? A troop of 
pilgrims inarching to one long home. " All the earth ■' one 
vast funeral crowd rushing on to the grave ! None had ever 
seen so many entering its portals as he. He had left Egypt 
with six hundred thousand — he had seen every one of them 
(save one solitary man, Caleb,) pass to that long home. He 
was now himself following — ready to enter the "house ap- 



SUNSET ON MOUNT EPHEAIM. 61 

pointed for all living." But the same Warrior, who stood 
at his side before the walls of Jericho, is there, to make him 
"more than conqueror /" 

And the same Lord, who upheld and sustained Joshua, will 
be with you! " Joshua- Jesus" — He who stands for your 
defence, amid life's temptations and trials, with the sword 
drawn in His hand — He who, when Moses, the type of the 
law, dies, brings His spiritual Israel to the true land of 
promise. Yes, and when you come, like this old hero- saint, 
to take farewell of all that is under the sun, when you come 
to take your stand by the dark river side, the voice of the 
true Joshua (like that of his illustrious forerunner,) will be 
heard saying, "Behold, the ark of the covenant of the Lord 
of all Hie earth passeth over before you into Jordan! f? 



IV. 



* I go not like one in the strength of youth, 
Who hopes, though the passing cloud 
May pour down its icy hail amain, 
That summer and sunshine will break out agaiB 
The brighter from sorrow's shroud. 

u An April morn and a clouded day 
My portion of life hath been ; 
And darker and darker the evening sky 
Stretches before me gloomily, 
To the verge of the closing scene. 

u Gloomily darkens the evening sky : 
I shall go with a heavy heart ;— 
Yet would I change, if the power were mine, 
One tittle decreed by the will Divine ? — 
Oh, no ! not a thousandth part." 

— Bowles. 

"And there ran a man of Benjamin out of the army, and came to Shiloh 
the same day with his clothes rent, and with earth upon his head. And 
when he came, lo, Eli sat upon a seat by the way-side watching : for hia 
heart trembled for the ark of God. And when the man came into the city, 
and told it, all the city cried out. And when Eli heard the noise of the 
crying, he said, "What meaneth the noise of this tumult? And the man 
came in hastily, and told Eli. Now Eli was ninety and eight years old; 
and his eyes were dim, that he could not see. And the man said unto Eli, 
I am he that came out of the army, and I fled to-day out of the army. 
And he said, What is there done, my son ? And the messenger answered 
and said, Israel is fled before the Philistines, and there hath been also a 
great slaughter among the people, and thy two sons also, Hophni and 
Phinehas, are dead, and the ark of God is taken. And it came to pass, 
when he made mention of the ark of God, that he fell from off the seat 
backward by the side of the gate, and his neck brake, and he died ; for ha 
was an old man, and heavy : and he had judged Israel forty years/* — ■ 
1 Samuel iv. 12-19 



A TEOUBLED SUNSET. 

Mouknful is it to see the life of a great and good man ter- 
minate in trouble and sorrow ; — to see the sun which has held 
on a glorious course through bright skies during a long 
summer day, go down at his setting mantled in lowering 
clouds, — a pillow of gloom and darkness. 

Such is the closing scene in the life of Eli, the aged 
Priest, Euler, and Judge of Israel. Ninety-eight years 
have furrowed his brow with wrinkles and dimmed his eye 
with blindness, as we see him sitting, in an agony of emotion, 
on the way-side near the gate of Shiloh. 

The Philistines (the old enemy of his nation) had come 
up against them in battle on the preceding day at Ebenezer. 
The fight had ended in the discomfiture of the hosts of 
Israel. The news of disaster and defeat had spread. Pour 
thousand noble Hebrews lay stretched on that bloody plain, 
and when the retreating host fell back on their tents, a loud 
wail burst from the elders of the people — " Wherefore hath 
the Lord smitten us to-day before the Philistines ? " * 

Is there no way of retrieving their disaster? Doubtless 
on the morrow, the warriors of Philistia will follow up their 
triumph ; and years of servitude and oppression may be the 
result of a second defeat. They bethink themselves of what 
should have occurred to them lon^ before now. The Ark of 
God, the pledge and symbol of victory in times gone by, was 

* 1 Sara. iv. 3. 



64< SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

not many leagues distant from their encampment, within the 
gates of Shiloh. Might they not send fleet-footed messengers 
to request of old Eli, its custodier and guardian, that the 
sacred symbol might be sent without delay. It might form 
yet a rallying point for the discomfited ranks, revive droop- 
ing hearts, and nerve for the morrow's struggle. The aged 
priest assents. He cannot himself accompany it, — his years 
— his sightless eyes — his shattered frame — could not stand 
the hurry of the march and feverish excitements of the 
battle. His two sons, Hophni and Phinehas, are, however, 
ready for the exploit. They are the bearers* of the sacred 
chest. The old man is able only to follow them and their 
consecrated burden to the city gate. There he seats him- 
self, uttering, (perhaps, with trembling lips,) his benediction, 
till the noise of their footfall dies away in the distance. In 
other circumstances, a father's heart would have swelled with 
patriot-pride to see his children going forth, bearers of the 
great standard of their nation — that which was more to the 
"sons of Abraham" than the proud eagle ever w?s to the 
legions of imperial Eome, and which, in older and better 
times, both in the wilderness and Canaan, out of weakness 
had made strong, imparted valour in fight, and " turned to 
flight the armies of the aliens." His spirit, too, might have 
revived, had he listened to the frantic shout of joy which 
rose from the ranks of Israel as they saw the palladium of 
their liberty come into their midst. "All Israel shouted 
with a great shout, so that the earth rang again" * 

But ah! there were mingled thoughts in that old manV 

* 1 Sam. iv. 5. 



A TKOUBLED SUNSET. 65 

breast, as his dull ear caught the last sound of these retreating 
steps. Amid the wreck of memory, he could not forget that 
dark and solemn night when, within the hallowed curtains 
of Shiloh, the voice of a little child (the very child he had 
with fondest love adopted as his own, and like a tender 
lamb nestled in his bosom), the voice of that child uttered, in 
the name of Israel's God, accents of stern doom and disaster 
against his house — tidings which would " make the ears " of 
every one that heard them " to tingle." The burden of the 
Divine communication was, that the Lord " would judge the 
house of Eli for ever, for the iniquity which he knew ; be- 
cause his sons made themselves vile, and he restrained them 
not." * Twenty years had rolled by since the first utterance 
of these prophetic warnings. Had the Lord become slack 
concerning His threatenings, because sentence against their 
evil works was not executed speedily ? Does the old Priest 
and Judge imagine that God has retracted or modified His 
solemn averments? He knew better. The cloud has for 
years been gathering ; — and now in this war-tempest that is 
blackening the political heavens, he fancies he reads too 
truthfully the omens of approaching disaster. The coming 
event, anticipated for well nigh a quarter of his protracted 
life, now casts a deeper shadow on his path ; and stinging 
must have been the aggravation of his woe, that he was 
himself the guilty cause of impending judgment, that, but 
for his parental neglect — culpable parental fondness — he 
might have transmitted an unsullied name from genera- 
tion to generation, his children rising up and calling hiin 
blessed 

* 1 Sam. iii. 13. 



66 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

Other and gloomy thoughts, too, crowded upon him. 
" His heart trembled for the ark of God." Strong as were 
his feelings of parental solicitude, a deeper and intenser 
anxiety was gathered around that holy treasure, of which 
he was delegated keeper. The failing of Eli's whole cha- 
racter was irresolution — indecision — a facile, easy, wavering 
temper — " a righteous man," but he was not " bold as a lion.'"' 
His weakness was manifested alike in his family and in his 
government. It was mainly by reason of his irresolute sway 
the state was now hovering on the brink of ruin. His 
conduct at this solemn crisis, regarding the ark, as alike 
High priest and Chief magistrate, illustrates his administra- 
tive incapacity. That ark either ought not to have been 
trusted in the battle at all, or it ought to have been there when 
Israel first marched to the field. It ought to have formed the 
rallying point of the fight of yesterday as well as of to-day. 
It was little else than an insult to Him who dwelt between 
its cherubims, to neglect the symbol of His presence, until 
the hour of disaster and defeat forced them to an acknow- 
ledgment of His hand. They went out to the first battle to 
meet their old enemy, confident in their own prowess ; and 
now, it was only when their ranks are broken, that they 
have recourse to the consecrated shrine. They flee to God 
when they cannot help it. They flee to Him only when 
their own bruised reeds have failed — as a last resort — the 
forlorn hope of their demoralised and discomfited squadrons. 

No wonder, then, that that old man sits by the way-side 
tremulous and fearful, stretching out his palsied and withered 
hands to every passer-by for tidings of tie fray. His was 
indeed an accumulated load of anxiety and woe. 



A TEOUBLED SUXSET. 67 

The Army. Might not the uncircumcised Philistines be 
already rejoicing over " the beauty of Israel slain in high 
places?" Might not that evening sun be already setting on 
fields of carnage and blood, and leave a thousand Rachels 
weeping and refusing to be comforted? 

His Sons. Once the pride of his heart — but, alas ! on 
whom now rested the brand and curse of God — the shadows 
of time, followed by the gloom of a darker hereafter ! 

The Aek. Could it be hurried once more amid the defiled 
fires of Philistian altars ? — polluted with the incense offered 
to Chemosh and Dagon ? 

Oh ! it was a lifetime hurried into a few eventful hours. 
How heavily would the moments drag along till the terrible 
suspense was relieved ! At last, the moment has come ! A 
haggard messenger — a man of Benjamin, a fugitive from 
battle, supposed in Jewish tradition to be Saul, — with rent 
garments, and dust on his head, — speeds him to the gates of 
Shiloh. Had Eli's eyes been as once they were, he would 
not have required to ask so eagerly the fate of the day ; — the 
symbols of woe and defeat, in the torn dress and earth-be- 
sprinkled head, would have made known too truly the worst. 
A loud wail is carried to his ear from the city ! — Stretching 
forth his withered arms, he exclaims, — " What meaneth the 
noise of this tumult? What is there done, my son?" 

Touching is the reply. Bolt after bolt pierces his soul ! 
"Wave upon wave, — and each succeeding one sadder than the 
last, — rolls in upon him ! It is a succession of cruel tidings 
rising to a terrible and significant climax. 

Mark them! "And the messenger answered and said, 
Israel is fled before the Philistines!" That is the first* 



68 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

and sad enough is the announcement. Still, the old man 
might cling to the hope that matters might not be desperate. 
It might be more perhaps of a strategetic movement ; — the 
messenger, in too hot haste, may have exaggerated or mis- 
apprehended ; or, if a temporary repulse, at least, there might 
be little bloodshed, and, rallying their broken ranks, the for- 
tune of the hour might already be retrieved ! 

But the next sentence of the message extinguishes these 
hopes. " There hath been also a great slaughter among the 
people ! " It has been a grievous discomfiture ! " Philistia 
has triumphed." The pride and flower of Israel has fallen ; 
— and the cry of orphanage and widowhood shall be heard 
in many desolate homes ! 

Is there not yet a ray of hope for the parent's heart ? 
Amid these thousands whose blood is staining the plains of 
Aphek, is it possible that the two forms he has been follow- 
ing all day in anxious thought may yet be spared ? that God 
may in mercy close His own eyes before He executes His 
denunciations regarding them ? But this is the burden of the 
third portion of the message, — " Thy two sons also, Hophni 
and Phinehas, are dead." 

One and only one gleam still remains in this wreck of life 
— to one plank alone, does the old castaway still cling amid 
these buffeting waves. Israel may have fallen ! — Eachels 
may be weeping ! — Philistia may have conquered ! — the fruit 
of his own body may be lying amid the heaps of gory slain. 
But if the Ark be still intact — unpolluted, unviolated by 
uncircumcised hands, he will stem the torrent of burning 
grief. All may yet be well. The hopes of Israel are not 
irretrievably annihilated. If the old symbol of God's favour 



A TROUBLED SUNSET. 69 

bo still in the hands of the feeble remnant, who can tell but 
it may, ere the morrow's dawn, work wonders as of old ; and 
that at the ancestral battle-cry uttered over it, " Arise, 
Lord, and let thine enemies be scattered:" God will prove 
to be " in the midst of them ; they shall not be moved : the 
Lord shall help them, and that right early." 

But the last tiding is the saddest of all. The messenger 
rises to a gloomy climax, "and the ark of God is taken !" 
It is enough ; — the old man can bear up no more ! He can 
listen with comparative calmness to the tidings of national 
disaster, — death, — family bereavement ; but when the crown- 
ing woe of woes reaches his ear — that " the glory of Israel"— 
its jewel and crown — has ignominiously fallen ; — he cannot 
survive the shock. Like aged Jacob, he can say with an 
intenser bitterness, " I am bereaved I " The old palm-tree 
quivers at its roots. " And it came to pass, when he made 
mention of the ark of God, that he fell from off the seat 
backward by the side of the gate, and his neck brake, and 
he died."* That sun, which for forty years had been the 
political and ecclesiastical light of Israel, now sets behind 
their mountains in the darkest shadows of death. 

Let us endeavour to draw one or two practical lessons from 
this touching story. 

It contains a special lesson to parents, and a general lesson 
to all. 

The first and most patent, surely, is a lesson to parents. 

What a heritage of sorrow and suffering might not Eli 
have warded off, by fidelity to that immortal trust confided to 
* 1 Sam. iv. 18. 



70 SUNSETS ON THE HEBBEW MOUNTAINS. 

him. He was in many things worthy of all commendation. 
He was, we have reason to believe, " an Israelite indeed." He 
loved the God of his fathers. He was jealous for His glory. 
He treasured, with patriot fidelity, the symbol of His presence. 
As a man and a parent, too, he was not stern or repulsive or 
vindictive. He was evidently of a kindly nature ; — his tender 
affection for youno; Samuel is one of the most touching 
episodes in sacred story. What a proof of his meekness and 
childlike spirit was his conduct, on hearing from those infant 
lips, the doleful tidings of wrath and judgment ! How many 
would have received the withering communication, and that 
too from the mouth of a child, with fierce indignation ! How 
many would in wrath have spurned the tiny messenger of evil 
away, and rejected his message as a piece of puerile presump- 
tion, a frightening dream of infancy ! But there is no frown 
on his brow. This " still small voice " brings him, like the 
prophet of Horeb, to stand wrapt in his mantle, calm, sub- 
missive, self- convicted and self-condemned, and to say — (oh, 
considering such a wound in a parent's heart, how great the 
effort, how strong the faith to be able to say it,) " It is the 
Lord, let him do what seemeth Jam good." 

But notwithstanding much (very much) that was laudable 
and loveable in his character, he had suffered youthful 
folly to go unchecked; — he had looked on the first outbreak 
of vice in the young tyrants of his household with a too 
lenient eye ; — he had nestled the snake too fondly and too 
thoughtlessly. A few judicious words — a few loving counsels 
— a few firm prohibitions timeously addressed to these lawless 
boys, might have saved him many a bitter hour and bitter 
tear. But from motives of false delicacy, or indecision, or 



A TROUBLED SUNSET. 71 

indifference, he did not repress the beginnings of evil. What 
was the result? Shame in Israel, dishonour to God, national 
disaster, a violent death ! 

Let parents lay these things to heart. There is among all 
a natural partiality for their own children. When they see 
family wrecks around, they cannot bring themselves to be- 
lieve that it could be so with theirs. ? Others," they are apt 
to say, " of baser natures, of wicked dispositions, ungovernable 
tempers ; the children of profligate parents, who have been 
nurtured under the shadow of evil example, and who bore 
from their cradles the stamp of ungodliness, — we wonder 
not at hearing of their worthlessness and ruin : but no fear of 
ours. Their temperament is of a different cast. We need 
not be so fastidious — so watchful. We can leave them very 
much to themselves. Kestraint — too much tension — will only 
end in a greater rebound. As for some early outbreaks, 
they are only the usual manifestations to be expected of 
youthful folly ; — they will cure themselves. We must not 
press matters too hard, or domineer with too high a hand." 

"It is good that a man bear the yoke in his YOUTH.' 1 * 
A word spoken then, in due season, how good it is ! It is 
easy to bend the sapling — not so easy to bend the tree. 
" Train up " (not the youth, — not when on the threshold of 
manhood or womanhood) — but " train up a child in the way 
that he should go, and when he is old he will not depart 
from it." -J- Eli, indeed, we find reasoning and expostulating 
with his sons, "And he said unto them. Why do ye such 
things ? for I hear of your evil dealings hy all this people. 
Nay, my sons ; for it is no good report that I hear : y» 

* Lam. iii. 27. + Pro v. xxii. 6. 



72 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

make the Lord's people to transgress!' Alas ! these gentle 
chidings - came too late. " Notiuithstanding they hearkened 
not to the voice of their father:' Unchecked and unbridled 
boyhood led to dissolute youth ; and then the course was 
rapidly downward, headlong to destruction ! 

Ay, and the bitterest part of it all, to a heart like Eli's, 
must have been the second death. The words of the child 
Samuel are among the most awful in the Bible — -" I have 
sworn unto the house of Mi, that the iniquity of Eli's house 
shall not be purged with sacrifice nor offering for ever." 
It reminds one of another parent in Israel in similar circum- 
tances. What was the terrible element of David's grief in 
the touching lament for Absalom ? It seems to lie in the 
middle clause of that piercing elegy, u Would God I had died 
for thee ! " as if he had said, " If it had been myself and 
not thee, there would have been need of no such bitter tears. 
To me, it would have been a gain to die— for the God I serve 
hath ' made with me an everlasting covenant.' But, alas ! ' my 
house is not so with God T I have no such joyous hope 
hovering over thy early grave. ' Absalom, Absalom ! 
my son, my son Absalom ! would God I had died for thee, 
Absalom, my son, my son ! ' " * 

There is, in a review of Eli's history and character, a 
general lesson to all. 

There is a lesson to Sinners. Learn from Eli's death, that 

God will not wink at sin. Even when He sees it in His own 

people, He will punish it. If He spared not this good and 

holy saint, — this long-tried priest and judge in Israel ; — if 

* 2 Sam. xviii. 33. 



A TROUBLED SUNSET. 73 

He spared not " the branch His own right hand planted," take 
heed, sinner, lest he spare not thee ! 

Sentence against Eli's evil works (his sins of omission) 
was not executed speedily. Israel, who doubtless knew the 
doom hanging over his house, might think and say, — " The 
God who uttered these stern things is to have mercy on his 
hoary hairs. Whatever He may do to Eli's abandoned sons, 
He will let the old man, first of all, die in peace, and be 
gathered to his fathers.'' 

No, no, aged servant of God ! the thorn shall pierce thine 
unpillowed head ! the scorpions of vengeance shall yet over- 
take thee ! Thou shalt, in thy clouded sunset, be another 
beacon to all time, — another attestation to the truth of the 
words, "Be sure your sin will find you out /" 

And if God thus dealt with a holy, meek, gentle, child- 
like saint, — careless one ! say, how will He deal with thee ? 
" If these things were done in the green tree, what shall he 
done in the dry ?." Oh ! as we see the poor, helpless, unbe- 
friended, blind man, staggering back on his seat by the way- 
side ; and dying, pierced with worse than a thousand Philis- 
tian arrows ; — as we see the venerable tree of God, which 
had been rooted for a century on the high hills of Israel, 
wrenched up by the roots in a moment by the terrible blast, 
- — may we not well exclaim, in the words of the prophet to the 
worthless children of the forest all around, — " Howl fir-tree, 
for the cedar has fallen !"* 

There is a lesson to Saints, to Believers, to the Church ! 
It is a lesson for imitation ! Would that there were more 
among us who died like Eli, with a tear in our eye for the ark 

* Zecli. xi. 2. 



74 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

of God ! Beautiful was that solicitude of his for the sacred 
symbol. It was dearer to him than home, or country, o* 
friends. He listened to the other crushing tidings with calm 
magnanimity. But " the ark of God taken ! " he cannot sur- 
vive such a blow as this ! 

Have the fortunes, — the welfare of the Church of Christ, 
— any such corresponding interest to us ? Do we live for 
it ? Could we, like Eli, die for it ? Alas ! alas ! where is 
the picture among us of Christians sitting on the wayside of 
life, trembling for the Ark of God ? See them by hundreds 
and thousands sitting trembling for their business ; for the 
worldly good of their families ; for their money ; for the 
golden chest of mammon ! See ten thousand swords ready 
to start from their scabbards for the defence of hearth and 
home, and the protection of civil privileges and national 
honour. But where is there a corresponding trembling ap- 
prehension about the war of principles, though the spiritual 
enemy be coming in like a flood, — a rampant infidelity at 
our doors, and the masses of our people in crowded cities 
perishing for lack of knowledge ! Let us take care that we be 
not traitors to our great trust as custodiers of the ark, the great 
centre of light for a dark world. The era of Scripture history, 
and the subsequent annals of the Church, give us significant 
warning that it is a possible thing for the disaster of Ebe- 
nezer to be repeated ; for the ark to fall ; for the candlestick 
to be removed ! After this sad day of old Eli's death, the 
ark of Israel never again returned to Shiloh. Shiloh became 
a desolation. Its very walls were buried. Travellers to this 
day tell us that it is the most " featureless " place in the Holy 
Land. Its site can be identified no more. The ark was car- 



A TROUBLED SUNSET. 75 

ried from place to place for a hundred years, till it rested 
on Mount Zion, and even there too, the "Ichabod" pro- 
nounced on this fatal day is now written. Zion is desolate 
as Shiloh ; according to God's own words, " i" will make this 
house like Shiloh, and will make this city a curse !" * And 
the same mournful tale was uttered, generations afterwards, 
amid the bleak ruins of the favoured churches of Asia. They 
forgot their first love ; their light was quenched in darkness ; 
the rejected Ark had to seek kindlier shores. 

If for three centuries it has dwelt in our island home, 
let us remember that we too, like the churches before us, 
enjoy it on sufferance. God seems to say to us, as to Jerusa- 
lem, " Go ye now unto my place which ivas in Shiloh, where 
I set up my name at the first, and see what I did to IT." 
If we neglect His ark, or desecrate it, or leave it in unhal- 
lowed hands, God will give it in custody to others. He will 
never want some people or some nation to glorify Him and 
hallow His name ; — " If these should hold their peace, the 
stones would immediately cry out!' + It might, indeed, on 
that eventful day at Shiloh's gate, have been little to Eli 
whether the ark returned or no. His course was run, his 
sun about to set. And it may, in a selfish point of view, be 
little to us, the waxing and waning fortunes of the Church 
of Christ. We may be in our graves before the Philistines 
— the powers of evil — muster for the last conflict. But shall 
we have no thought for those who come after us? Shall 
we estimate so lightly the prodigal blood of a martyred 
ancestry who died in defence of the Ark of God ? Shall we 
count it no sacred heirloom to hand down undesecrated to 
* Jer. sxvi. 6. + Luke six. 40. 



76 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

our children's children? Let us not be mistaken. We 
make no allusion to championship for sect or church. See 
that ye do not in this respect commit the very sin of Israel 
in Ebenezer, when the wild and frantic shout rang through 
the valley as thoy saw the ark approaching. They gazed 
upon it with superstitious veneration ; — they put the symbol 
in place of God. How many do so still, whose cry is, " The 
temple of the Lord ! the temple of the Lord ! " who are loud 
in some Shibeoleth of party, — guilty of the basest idolatry of 
man, — looking to priest, or sacrament, or holy place, instead 
of to Him u who sitteth between the cherubims." Go ! love 
the Church of God ; fight for it ; weep for it ; if you will, die 
for it; but do so because you love Him who "loved that 
Church and gave Himself for it," and because you desire to 
glorify His name. The Ark of God is now in the battle- 
field. Enemies without receive encouragement from traitors 
within. Many an old saint with bent form is sitting weep- 
ing and trembling at the gates of Israel. When does the 
mother feel most anxious for her child? It is when she 
knows it is girdled with fire in the burning house, or far out 
in the tiny skiff in the midst of a roaring sea ; and if God is 
now bringing His Church "through fire and through water," 
causing it to ride amid the surging sea of the nations abroad, 
or amid elements charged with destruction at home; — let 
others make their political calculations, and forecast the des- 
tinies of kingdoms, but be it yours to " seat yourselves by 
the way-side," and, " trembling for the ark of God," to raise 
the prayer amid the gathering storm, "Arise, Lord, and 
let thine enemies be scattered." 






"Behold a patriarch of years, who leaneth on the staff of religion. 
His heart is fresh — quick to feel— a bursting fount of generosity ; 
Lofty aspirations, deep affections, holy hopes, are his delight. 
Passionate thirst for gain never hath burnt within his bosom; 
The leaden chains of that dull lust have not hound him prisoner. 
The shrewd world laughed at him for honesty — the vain world mouthed 

at him for honour; 
The false world hated him for truth— the cold world despised him for 

affection ; 
Still he kept his treasure — the warm and noble heart." 

— Proverbial Philosophy. 

" How quiet shews the woodland scene J 
Each flow'r and tree, its duty done, 
Reposing in decay serene, 

Like weary men when age is won ; 
Such calm old age as conscience pure 
And self-commanding hearts insure, 
Waiting their summons to the sky, 
Content to live, but not afraid to die." 

— Christian Year. 

" And Samuel died ; and all the Israelites were gathered together, and 
lamented him, and buried him in his house at I.lamah." — I Sam. xxv. 1. 



SUNSET ON KAMAH. 

What a gathering of mourners is this ! — thousands upon 
thousands — for it is "all Israel" that are assembled to do 
honour to the deceased prophet. We found, at the death of 
Abraham only two sorrowing survivors named as having 
been present— Isaac and Ishmael. Here we have a mighty 
nation congregated around the bier of Samuel at Kamah. 

His must have been no ordinary " departed worth." There 
must have been some more than usually rare combination of 
goodness and greatness which gathered together, in a village- 
city of Benjamin, so vast a concourse. 

Come, let us join the saddened throng ; — and, as the wail of 
the mourners wakes the echoes of the hills around, let us 
inquire what it was that made the name of Samuel so 
revered ; — what so embalmed this prophet and judge in the 
affections and memories of Israel ; — what the secret of his 
greatness in life, and of the universal lamentation at his 
death and burial. 

The First element in his character we shall notice is 
Kindness of heart ; this was accompanied with the kindred 
virtues of generosity, unselfishness, and delicate considera- 
tion for the feelings of others. 

We could almost have inferred this genial beneficence of 
spirit in Samuel, independent of any specific instances in his 
history, from the mere fact of old Eli's affection being drawn 



80 SUNSETS ON THE HEBKEW MOUNTAINS. 

out so early and so strongly towards him. There could be 
(we are naturally led to think) but little affinity or sympathy 
between this old man and this mere child. Eli ! the most 
illustrious name in Israel, — God's high priest, the chief 
magistrate of the nation — combining the regal and sacer- 
dotal functions, — gathering around him, from his position, 
all the great and wise and good. Yet see how he clings to 
that child at Shiloh. No father ever loved his offspring 
more tenderly than did that old half-blind patriarch and priest 
the little boy wearing the linen ephod, and whose couch was 
in the chamber adjoining his own. Indeed, ever since that 
father's eyes had been opened to the reckless and profligate 
conduct of his own sons, he seems to have turned his broken 
heart towards this devoted youth ; and nothing, in all the 
Bible's pictures of human love, is more affecting than the 
tender attachment that sprang up between them. It was 
old Winter, with furrowed brow and hoary locks, and totter- 
ing step, clasping Spring with its buds and blossoms. It 
was the Alpine glacier nestling the tiny floweret in its snowy 
bosom ; or in some deep crevice, screening it from the blast. 
It was the old gnarled cedar bending its top bough to the 
sapling that had taken shelter under its shadow. See how 
youth and age love one another ! 

This remarkable kindness of the old man was so far, 
doubtless, disinterested— the offspring of a naturally easy 
and confiding nature ; but it must have arisen, too, from 
idiosyncrasy. There must have been loving and endearing 
qualities in that young heart which converted the boy into 
the confidential friend. 

Take one instance, one illustrative trait of this kindness, 




SUNSET ON EAMAH. 

or rather, considerate delicacy of feeling, from the opening 
chapter of the prophet's history. 

" The tuord of God," we read, " was precious in those days; 
there was no open vision/' That is to say, the old prophetic 
communications — the miraculous appearances and divine 
interventions had been long suspended : — it was a compara- 
tively rare thing for a divine utterance to be heard. Yet, on 
a memorable night, when Samuel had laid himself down to 
sleep — when the lamp was dimly flickering in the temple — ■ 
a mysterious voice sounded in his ear, — " The Lord called 
Samuel!"* 

Favoured child ! to be the first, after a long interval of 
silence, to listen to the lively oracle. The message, indeed, 
was a sad one ; — " not a joyous chime, but a funeral knell/' 
It would " make the ear of every one that heard it to tingle." + 
But yet, sad and direful as it was, and tenfold more so to the 
unconscious parent hard by, — how few at such an age, elated 
with the signal honour, could have resisted the impulse to 
go at once and make it known. Unthinking childhood, from 
the very love of communicating what is startling, marvellous, 
or strange, often unwittingly wounds and lacerates ; — making 
public the tale of sadness which a maturer judgment would 
see it befitting to suppress. But mark Samuel's kind con- 
sideration for the old father's feelings. He dreads to dis- 
close the terrible secret. Locking it in his bosom, he lies till 
morning on his sleepless couch ; and when morning comes — 
the wonted hour for duty — wearing as joyous a countenance 
as he can, he resumes his ordinary work. It is not until Eli 
(guessing perhaps too faithfully the burden of the vision) 

* 1 Sam. iii. 1, 4. t 1 Sam. iii. 11. 



82 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

urges his young attendant to make the disclosure, that 
Samuel, with misgiving heart, reveals what dare no longer be 
concealed. If a less tender affection had subsisted between 
them, Eli might have indignantly spurned the message and 
the messenger. What ! a child the rebuker of a°je ! a child 
the prophet of evil, — the bearer of tales of horror to God's 
High Priest ! But he has watched and appreciated his kind 
consideration. He knows too well the tenderness of that 
little heart, and in reply he pours into the child's ears nothing 
but words of sublime resignation: "It is the Lord, let him 
do what seemeth him good !" 

Or shall we go to the end of his life for an illustration of 
that same unselfish kindness, the disinterested generosity of 
a noble nature ? It was after a long period of unflinching 
devotion to the interests of the commonwealth, that Samuel 
one day, in his house at Ramah, was waited on by the heads 
of the tribes. In their mad love of change, they demanded 
the introduction of a regal government. The prophet heard 
them in silence. He was not wounded, as he might have 
been, by any apparent slight of his own services ; but too 
well he foresaw the consequences of this reckless disregard of 
the principles on which their nation was established by God 
himself. If he had been like many, he would have resented 
the affront. Stung to the quick by their ingratitude and 
dissatisfaction with his rule, he mi^ht at once have fluno- 
aside the reins of government. Driven from the helm, he 
might have allowed the ship to drift hopelessly among the 
breakers, saying, " Well, take your mind ; you have sown to 
the wind, I leave you to reap the whirlwind." 



SUNSET ON EAMAH. 83 

What is his conduct ? With a beautiful abnegation of self ; 
without one spark of envy, or jealousy, or wounded pride, — 
consulting only the well-being of his country, — he does that 
for which generations unborn had reason to bless his memory. 
He tells them, indeed, with the plain outspoken candour of 
an honest man, that they had committed a great political 
blunder. Nay, further, he expostulates and remonstrates. 
But when all is in vain, — when he gets in reply the dogged 
answer, — " l¥ay, but we ivill have a king over us, that he may 
judge us, and go out before us, and fight our battles ; " — then 
this noble pilot, that had weathered the political storms for 
twenty years, will not desert his post until he has done his 
best to equip the vessel afresh. He shapes for them their 
new form of regal government, and does what he can, pro- 
bably to modify the insolence of oriental kingly rule. Farther, 
we see him and his political successor, at their first meeting 
at Eamah, seated side by side at a banquet, then walking to- 
gether on the top of Samuel's flat-roofed house — the Judge 
initiating the elect King into the duties and responsibilities 
of his momentous destiny. And when he pours the con- 
secrated oil on Sauls head, and by this act consummated his 
own deposition and the elevation of the young Benjamite, 
it was accompanied, not with the frown of envy, but the 
kiss of friendship, the token of good success. He cheerfully 
steps down himself from the pinnacle of power, and is the 
first of the Hebrew nation to utter the loyal prayer, " God 
save the King ! " It reminds us of the generosity shewn by 
Jonathan a few years afterwards, when, as lawful heir to the 
throne, he willingly waives his princely prerogative, saying 



84 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

to liim whom the world would have called his " rival," but 
whom he loved as his friend, — " Thou shalt be Icing, and 1 
shall be next to thee." 

Let us imitate this kindness, this disinterestedness, this 
unselfish love in another's welfare, even where our own in- 
terests may suffer. Ah ! what magic there is in kindness. 
How many a little Samuel in a household has smoothed the 
brow of wrinkled age, and erased the channel of hot tears. 
How many a morose and moody spirit has had cheerfulness 
imparted by the light, buoyant step, the sunny countenance, 
and the little, thoughtful act of unostentatious attention ! 
It is an easy and inexpensive way of doing much. Kindness 
is not measured or expounded by great deeds, by princely 
gifts, largesses, extravagant and showy acts of beneficence. 
It is often best manifested in little ways ; — in the visit to 
the sick ; — the mindful interest shewn in the wasted invalid ; 
the clothing or schooling of the orphan ; readiness, as in the 
case of Samuel, to minister to the aged. Eemember the 
apostolic injunction, " Be ye hind one to another." " Let all 
your things be done ivith charity or kindness." " The cup 
of cold ivater given to a disciple will not lose its reward." 

Another trait in the character of Samuel was Firmness. 

We often find in great men a remarkable union of oppo- 
site qualities. This was eminently the case with Samuel, 
who combined the gentleness of the lamb with the boldness 
of the lion. He suggests, in more than one passage of his 
history, the composite character of Luther ; — at one time, 
the centre of a peaceful domestic picture in the bosom of his 
family, doting with unwonted fondness and tenderness on 



SUKSET ON RAMAH. 85 

the one little daughter that was early taken from him ; — at 
another, displaying the dauntless hero-upirit which never 
failed him in his great life-struggle. 

Samuel's was no child's work, in the era of Hebrew history 
in which his lot was cast. During the first twenty years of 
his public life, the people had fallen into a humiliating state 
of vassalage under the iron yoke of Philistia. The Philistines 
had not actually taken possession of the country, but they 
had so garrisoned all the border-towns, that they were enabled 
to overawe the entire land, and exact exorbitant tribute. 
And what intensified this patriot's sorrows was, that the 
worship of Dagon had in many places been introduced ; 
idolatry in its worst form had been corrupting the purity of 
the ancient faith. The lamp of the Lord in the temple was, 
in a figurative sense, " waxing dim " — the patriot spirit was 
low — the tribes had been broken up into separate petty 
republics, with few elements of cohesion. For these twenty 
years, this bold champion ceased not to exhort and to expos- 
tulate ; — rousing the apathetic to a sense of their guilt and 
danger, and vindicating the name and worship of the great 
God whose servant he was. Great in this respect was the 
contrast with his revered father, Eli, whose fatal blemish was 
an easy flexibility of temper ; seen first in the insubordination 
of his own family, and more fatally manifested in the feeble 
way in which he grasped the helm of government. This 
pusillanimous conduct — this " fear of man which bringeth a 
snare," had no place in the character or administration of 
Samuel. His first magisterial act at the close of these twenty 
years of political servitude, was to issue a public manifesto 
on the guilt of idolatry — to quench the fire of these defiled 



86 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

altais — to hurl Baalim and Ashtaroth from their seats, and 
re-establish the national faith. He was no warrior — he was 
not bred to arms. We look in him for no feats of chivalry 
— no bold marches and surprises such as we read of in 
the life of Joshua. Perhaps this was the main reason for 
the Israelites afterwards desiring a king ; that they wished 
one with more of a soldier look, and mien, and training. 
But though no soldier by name, the true warrior-spirit lurked 
under the lowly and unmartial attire of the prophet of 
Ram ah. See how that spirit rose with the occasion, when 
he assembled, at this same period of his history, all the tribes 
at Mizpeh. The scene itself must have been a striking one. 
Though the position of Mizpeh has not positively been ascer- 
tained, there is the strongest reason to identify it with the 
well-known eminence called " Nebi- Samuel," so conspicuous 
in the northern view from Jerusalem.* It is the highest 
eminence in the landscape, and was peculiarly fitted as a ren- 
dezvous for the surrounding tribes. 

The thousands of Israel have mustered at the bidding of 
their great head ! The tidings are carried through the ranks, 
that the lords of Philistia are advancing ; a panic spreads 
through the host of the Hebrews ; — they are taken at unawares, 
and are all unprepared for conflict. Left to themselves, they 
must either abandon their camp in inglorious flight, and 
their city and adjacent villages to merciless pillage, or else 
submit to the humiliating alternative of unconditional sur- 



* It is the hill on whose summit our own king, Richard, brjied his face 
in his armour, and exclaimed, "Ah, Lord God, I pray that I may never 
see Thy holy city, if so be that I may not rescue it from the hands of 
thine enemies." — See Stanley's Sinai and Palestine, p. 213. 



SUNSET ON EAMAH. 87 

render. It was a moment requiring promptitude, courage, 
decision. But Samuel was equal to the emergency. It is 
to his brave conduct, his calm fortitude on this occasion, (to 
which we shall have cause afterwards to revert,) that the 
inspired apostle refers. In his illustrations of faith, in the 
Epistle to the Hebrews, among other ancient worthies, of 
whom he says, " time would fail him to tell," — he specially 
includes Samuel, " who escaped the edge of the sword, out of 
weakness was made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and 
turned to flight the armies of the aliens" 

Take one other example. 

Look at his bold and manly bearing on the occasion of 
summoning the same tribes at Gilgal, to ratify their own 
choice of a king, and publicly inaugurate him in his regal 
functions. Saul had just returned, covered with martial 
glory, from his first successful campaign against the Am- 
monites. He is the idol of the hour. The camp had rung 
with loyal acclamations ; and had Samuel wished to ingratiate 
himself at that moment of elation, alike with monarch and 
people, he would have kept silence, and allowed the vast 
assembly to disperse, with no utterance of rebuke or warning 
to mar their rejoicings. But this moral hero must, on this 
the occasion of his last public appearance, deliver a faithful 
and earnest reproof for their wickedness and apostasy. 
Though the monarch's crown is glittering before his eyes, 
and the wreath of victory on his brow, the old prophet does 
not scruple thus to address the people in hearing of their 
sovereign: " If ye shall still do wickedly, ye shall be con- 
sumed, both ye and your king I " With his wrinkled hands 
uplifted to heaven, his warning is divinely ratified by thunder 



88 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

and rain ; and that, too, at the unwonted time of wheat-har- 
vest, when neither thunder nor rain is known in Palestine. 
We arc told that "the people greatly feared the Lord and 
Samuel."* 

Alas ! the monarch does fail to fulfil his covenanted obli- 
gations — adding hypocrisy to a dereliction of duty in his con- 
duct regarding Amalek. The bold reprover of his wrongs is 
once more at his side, telling that the penalty of disobe- 
dience is the forfeiture of his crown, — demanding, " What 
meaneth this bleating of sheep in mine ears, and the lowing 
of the oxen which I hear? Hath the Lord as great delight 
in burnt sacrifice as in obeying the voice of the Lord ? " f 
Ay, even after the old prophet is laid in his ancestral grave 
at Eamah, the affrighted kino: bribes the enchantress of 
En dor to summon up his shade — knowing that from those 
lips that never shrunk from duty, nor trembled with coward 
concealment, he will get, at all events, the terrible truth. 

Nothing is so much the attribute of a noble mind as 
strength of purpose — moral fortitude. True, there is a 
point where firmness lapses into its counterfeit of wilful- 
ness, — where strength of principle is confounded with obsti- 
nacy. Nor must we mistake for boldness and fortitude, 
rash impulse and blind fervour. Saul himself was, in this 
worst sense, a man of boldness and firmness ; exhibiting at 
times flashes of kindness and generosity, along with vindictive 
temper, intense selfishness, impatience of restraint, fiery pas- 
sion, and cruel revenge. He had much of the soldier spirit 
as well as the soldier }ook. But, as has been well observed, 
" the firmness required in a great moral or political crisis and 

* 1 Sam. xii. 18. + 1 Sara. xv. 22. 



SUNSET ON RAMAH. 89 

exigency, is not to be confounded with a panoply of steel." 
Moral courage is the greatest of all. Be it ours to aspire 
after this fortitude — " Add to your faith," says the apostle, 
"fortitude /" It is the fortitude of Daniel, the prime minis- 
ter of Babylon, standing in a heathen court and maintaining 
a resolute and uncompromising fidelity to the faith of his 
fathers. It is the fortitude of the saints in Nero's household, 
"rendering to Csesar the things that are Caesar's," but all 
subordinate to " rendering to God the things that are God's." 
It is the fortitude of the merchant, upholding his Christian 
integrity and commercial honour amid temptations to fraud 
and prevailing dereliction of principle. It is the fortitude 
of youth, amid the snares of a vast city and the jeers of scoff- 
ing companions — hallowing the remembrance of a father's 
counsels and a mother's prayers, and the voice of One greater 
still ; — able to say with unabashed countenance, and to act 
out the saying, — " I" am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ; 
for it is the poiver of God unto salvation unto every one 
that believeth." * 

A third element in the character of Samuel was his 
Integrity. 

He was, in every action of his life, the true patriot. He 
had but one end in view — to uphold his country's honour — 
to defend it from foreign invasion and intestine feuds. He 
loved his country more than himself. Well might Saul's 
servant, as they were approaching the gates of Ramah, in 
search of their stray asses, say, " Behold, there is in this city 
a man of God, and he is an honourable maw."t 

* Rom. I. 16. +1 Sam. ix. 6. 



90 SUNSETS ON THE HEBKEW MOUNTAINS. 

His unworthy sons, so strangely unlike the noble example 
set them from their youth, seem to have been displeased 
that he had not been less scrupulous. Of them it is sai* ; 
" They took bribes, and perverted justice." Never was 
there one so guiltless of ambition for family aggrandisement. 
Hear his great address on the heights of Gilgal, where he 
had assembled the tribes for Saul's public inauguration as 
king, " I have walked before you from my childhood unto 
this day. Behold, here I am : ivitness against me before 
the Lord, and before his anointed; whose ox have I taken 1 } 
or whose ass have I taken ? or whom have I defrauded 1 
whom have I oppressed ? or of whose hand have I received 
any bribe to blind my eyes therewith ? and I will restore it 
yoic."* It was a glorious testimony to the justice of this 
appeal, when the shout of an assembled nation echoed back, 
" Thou hast not defrauded us, or oppressed us." 

Can we, each of us, say the same ? Can we stand up before 
high heaven, whatever our situation, or circumstances, or 
profession, and say with an honest heart, " These hands are 
clean ! I have never defrauded my neighbour, or wounded 
his character, or sought to exalt my own on the ruins or at 
the expense of his ? I have never stooped to do an under- 
hand deed, or be a party to a clandestine transaction that 
cannot stand the light of day ? I may be in humble circum- 
stances ; — wealth, or position, or influence I may have none. I 
may be poor, the victim of designing men ; but, thank God, 
I have ' a good conscience/ This volume of my inner life 
corresponds with the outer. Every leaf may be read ; fw*d 
the blot if you can/' 

* 1 Sam. sii. 3. 



SUNSET ON RAM AH. 91 

There are volumes in this world's strange library which 
have their splendid exteriors — a binding gilt and embossed; 
— but on opening them, they are tattered and worm-eaten ; 
they cannot bear inspection ; they are to be looked at. not 
examined. When opened, they fall to pieces, like the dust in 
the mummy-case S Oh, rather have the outside cover poor — 
the binding tattered — than the leaves soiled with mercantile 
depravity and villain fraud ; rather the scanty meal and the 
frugal dwelling, than the banquet with its every piece of 
plate shewing the reflected face of a hungry creditor, and 
the music jarred with the whimpering cry of the defrauded 
orphan ! 

If there be a character which we would, more than another, 
— like the enchantress at the cave at Endor — conjure up 
from the invisible world, as a grand pattern for the times, it is 
this great Aristides* of the Hebrew Commonwealth, — this 
venerable impersonation of old-world honour and integrity. 
Would none cower in guilty shame at his apparition? 
Would no knees tremble if the shade appeared in the shop, 
the warehouse, the market-place, the exchange? We have 
plenty of Sauls now-a-days ; — men of brave heart, and fiery 
impulse, and warrior-spirit, all ready with the greaves of 
brass and spear of iron. We need more of the Samuels ; 
who, with the moral armour of probity and honour, will 
save their country from a sadder invasion than that of 
sword 'and bayonet, and from a more humiliating and de- 
basing ruin. 

Avoid — and young men especially — avoid all base, servile, 
underhand, sneaking ways. Part with anything sooner than 

* Called so by Giotius. 



92 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

your integrity and " conscious rectitude ;" flee from injustice 
as you would from a viper's fangs ; avoid a lie as you would 
the gates of hell. Some there are who are callous as to this. 
Some there are who, in stooping to mercantile dishonour and 
baseness, in driving the immoral bargain, think they have 
done a clever action. Tilings are often called by their wrong 
names — duplicity is called shrewdness, and wronghearted- 
ness is called longheadedness, evil is called good, and good 
evil, and darimess is put for light, and light for darkness. 
Well ! be it so. You may be prosperous in your own eyes ; 
you may have realised an envied fortune ; you may have your 
carriage, and plate, and servants, and pageantry ; but rather 
the shieling and the crust of bread with a good conscience, 
than the stately dwelling or palace without it. Eather than 
the marble mausoleum, which gilds and smothers tales of 
heartless villainy and fraud — rather, far rather, that lowly 
heap of grass we were wont often to gaze upon in an old 
village churchyard, with the simple stone that bore record 
of a cottar's virtues, " Here lies an honest man ! " 

There is nothing more sad than to be carried like a vessel 
away from the straight course of principle ; to be left a 
stranded outcast thing on the sands of dishonour. There is 
nothing more pitiable than to behold a man bolstering him- 
self up in a position he is not entitled to. " That is a man 
of capital," say the world, pointing to an unscrupulous and 
successful swindler. Capital ! What is capital ? Is it what a 
man has ? Is it counted by pounds and pence, stocks and 
shares, by houses and lands ? No ! capital is not what a man 
has, but what a man is. Character is capital; honour is 



BUS SET ON ItAMAH. 93 

capital ; the world's wretched version sometimes is, " the man 
makes his worth," — " makes " it, — they care not how — over- 
riding others, cheating others, clever and successful roguery. 
But the old proverb of the good old times condemns the 
counterfeit, tosses the base coin aside, and proclaims, " worth 
makes the man." Angels, as they look down at times on our 
streets, say, as they point to some one walking there, " That 
man is ruined ! " Ruined ! what has ruined him ? Do they 
see him in tattered attire, with shabby dress, the ticket on 
his house, or the shutter on his place of business ? Was he 
once a prosperous man — a credited millionare ? but the 
sand-built castles have become the sport of the tide, his 
wife and family beggared ? No ; he has all that ; — town and 
country house, equipages standing at his door, lights of 
luxury gleaming in his windows. Ruined! then how is 
this ? Ah, his character is gone, his integrity is sold ; he 
has bartered honour for a miserable mess of earthly pottage. 
He is put on the bankrupt-list by all the truly great in the 
ranks of lofty being. God save us from ruin like this! 
Perish what may ; — perish gold, silver, houses, lands ; let the 
winds of misfortune dash our vessel on the sunken rock, 
but let integrity be like the valued keepsake the sailor-boy 
lashed with the rope round his body, the only thing we care 
to save. Let me die ; but let angels read, if friends cannot 
afford to erect the gravestone, "Here lies an honest man!" 

Another and crowning element of Samuel's character was 
his Piety. 

We have been speaking hitherto only of the virtues of 



94 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

native growth — those which made him the man. We specie 
of him now as the " man of God " — the Saint — the Minister 
of heaven. 

Piety, like a silver thread, runs through the tissue, (the 
warp and woof) of his every- day life, from its earliest com- 
mencement. He had been baptized by the prayers of a godly 
mother. Better far than that little coat, (the little linen ephod 
which she made him and brought year by year as her offering 
of love), were those childhood lessons with which faith and 
piety clothed his infant spirit. Instead of being, as many a 
youth is, launched at tender years on the wide world, — sent 
out to buffet a sea of temptation, — she had the joy of taking 
him up to be placed under the influences of an aged saint of 
God. For twenty years of his early life there is a blank in 
his history. One single entry is all the historian gives ns, but 
it is significant and suggestive : "And Samuel grew, and the 
Lord luas with him" We meet him at his own city of Ea- 
mah, but, like Abraham, he has " built an altar to the Lord." 
He was emphatically a man of prayer. On a great emer- 
gency when even his sagacious and well-balanced mind was 
greatly perplexed to know the path of duty — afraid perhaps 
that personal feeling mingled with his displeasure — we read, 
" the thing displeased Samuel, and he cried unto the Lord." 
It was the befitting time for prayer. How often do we go 
to our knees with difficulties prejudged ; — hard questions we 
pretend to ask God to solve, but which our own poor judg- 
ments have solved already. Samuel gives us the definition 
of prayer ; — it is a cry to God in straits ; — a groping for 
direction not from sparks of our own kindling, but from the 
great Fountain of Light. 



SUNSET ON RAMAH. 95 

In God's name and strength he embarked in all his enter- 
prises — " Elimelech " (my God is king) seemed to be his 
life motto ; and it was the denial of this by the people, the 
rejection of God's regal prerogative, and the substitution of 
the earthly kingship, which roused him more than once to 
honest indignation. The boldness he displayed at that strik- 
ing convocation at Mizpeh, was all inspired by Eeligion. It 
was his own pious reverential spirit that gathered together 
the vast assemblage. He convened the tribes, that he might 
inaugurate his own rule and government by prayer and 
solemn fasting. The people, at his bidding, bring buckets of 
water from a neighbouring fountain, and pour them on the 
ground, in token alike of their denunciation of idolatry, and 
in confirmation of the national oath. And, when the shout 
of the Philistines is heard, and their gleaming array is seen 
in the distance, see how Samuel comforts himself! "No 
time now," some would say, " for religious duties. Why 
tarry by that altar? Why linger by the bleating cries of 
that ' sucking lamb ? ' when the ranks should be forming, 
and the arrow on the bow-string V* "Some trust in chariots," 
is the spirit of Samuel's war-song, " and some in horses," but 
"we will remember the name of the Lord our God." As the 
theocratic viceroy in that hour of imminent peril, he stands 
between the living and the dead ! See him, calm and undis- 
mayed, behind the smoke of his sacrifice, his hands raised to 
heaven, until he sees these blue skies melting into allies. 
The clouds (nature's chariots and horsemen) mustering to 
battle. It is enough, — God answered him in peals of thunder. 
" The Lord also thundered in the heavens, and the Highest 
gave his voice hailstones and coals of fire!" Not a sword 



96 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

was unsheathed — not a bow was bent — not a spear hurled. 
These thunders and lightning-arrows from the quiver of God, 
did the work of discomfiture. They had only to " Stand still 
and see His salvation" The Philistines fled, and Israel pur- 
sued them with great slaughter to Bethcar. And when the 
pursuit is over, and the trumpet musters its victorious 
squadrons, the first act of the prophet-conqueror is to give 
the glory to whom the glory alone is due. He set up a 
great stone, and wrote upon it " Ebenezer" " the Lord hath 
helped us ! " 

Let Samuel's piety be ours. That manly piety, — the happy 
cultivation and combination of the active and passive virtues, 
— the blending of the inner with the outer life ; — not a nega- 
tive saintship, like that of the men of Meroz, but the har- 
monious intermingling of diligence in business, with fervour 
in spirit " serving the Lord." The true type of " the Man " — 
the ideal of the Christian — is simplicity of faith and activity 
in duty. Samuel was kind in heart, strong in faith, and 
pure in spirit — but all was crowned and beautified by giving 
glory to God. The true Christian is not like the pyramid, 
with its naked sides, and tiers of monotonous stone ; but 
rather like the Alp, — its majestic slopes feathered and stud- 
ded with forest and cave, shady rock and limpid stream ; 
where the chamois may bound, and the bird may nestle, and 
the fox-glove hang its bells, and the weary pilgrim rest and 
slake his thirst : — whilst its diadem of snow, glorifying all, 
is bathed in the cloudless azure of heaven. 

We have thus endeavoured to stand in the midst of that 
dense crowd which followed the prophet to his earthly rest- 



SUNSET ON RAMAH. 97 

ing-place at Ramah, and taken a brief retrospect of his life 
and character ; tracing the sun from its earliest rising on 
Mount Ephraim and Shiloh, on through the clouded political 
firmament, to its setting in Ramah of Benjamin. The latter 
portion of his life was spent in apparent seclusion. He 
retired from his public work. But to the last, he was the 
devoted patriot. Saul was the ostensible sovereign, but he 
the real ruler. Saul, in the eyes of the electing tribes, may- 
have had the right, but even they seemed to assign to the 
old prophet the might — for we read, " He judged Israel all 
the days of his life"* 

His closing years could not fail to be years of sorrow. Not 
only had his own children failed to profit by the example of 
his lofty principle and exalted piety, but he saw the sceptre 
dishonoured in the tyrant's hand, and him, on whose head he 
had poured the anointing oil, proving sadly untrue to his 
great mission. 

There must, however, have been gleams of hope and com- 
fort, too, amid the anarchy and confusion of the present. That 
consecrating oil had been poured also on a shepherd-boy in 
Bethlehem, now the unmerited victim of Saul's worst passions. 
With prophetic foresight, the closing hours of the old Seer 
and Judge may have been gladdened by assurances of a great 
national revival under " the man after God's own heart." Ay, 
the vision of a mightier than David may have risen up before 
him in the dim future — that of "a King" who was to "reign 
in righteousness ; " who was to pour His blessing not on the 
tribes of Israel only, but on " all the families of the earth," — 
" the root and offspring of David, the bright and morning 

* 1 Sam. vii. 15. 
G 



98 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

star ! " As to Low he fell asleep, — his closing moments, his 
dying words and benedictions, — we know nothing. Nothing 
is recorded. But this we do know, that his influence and 
life, in its best sense, perished not with him in the grave of 
Kamah ; — its pulses beat in the nation's heart for generations 
afterwards. It might be averred of him, as was afterwards 
said of a nobler Prophet, that he was " set for the rising of 
many in Israel" * 

" Samuel died," we here read, " and all the Israelites were 
gathered together and lamented him." Nay, in one sense, 
weep not ! lament not ! He is not dead, but liveth ! Let the 
prophet's ashes repose in peace. We need not go with Saul 
to the cave at Endor, to utter incantations, that we may see 
his shape, and listen to his burning words. His deeds are 
living, imperishable realities. His voice is even now heard. 
He is enrolled in the Bible's high genealogies, — canonized 
in the noblest sense with the great and the good of all time — 
"Moses and Aaron among his priests, and Samuel among 
them that call upon his name /" + 

• Luke ia. 34. t ?& xcix. 6. 



V 



VL 

Bmx&rt an % |$tmmiam8 at (Hikafr. 



" This world is all a fleeting show, 
For man's illusion given ; 
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe ; 
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow — 
There 's nothing true but heaven. 

" And false the light on glory's plume 
As fading hues of even ; 
And love, and hope, and beauty's bloom, 
Are blossoms gather'd for the tomb — 
There's nothing bright but heaven. 

" Poor wanderers of a stormy day, 
From wave to wave we 're driven ; 
And fancy's flash, and reason's ray, 
Serve but to light the troubled way- 
There 's nothing calm but heaven." 

— Moore. 

"And Barzillai the Gileadite came down from Rogelim, and went 
over Jordan with the king, to conduct him over Jordan. Now Barzillai was 
a very aged man, even fourscore years old : and he had provided the king 
of sustenance while he lay at Mahanaim; for he was a very great man. 
And the king said unto Barzillai, Come thou over with me, and I will feed 
thee with me in Jerusalem. And Barzillai said unto the king, How long 
have I to live, that I should go up with the king unto Jerusalem ? I am 
this day fourscore years old ; and can I discern between good and evil ? 
can thy servant taste what I eat or what I drink ? can I hear any more the 
voice of singing-men and singing-women ? wherefore then should thy ser- 
vant be yet a burden unto my lord the king ? Thy servant will go a little 
way over Jordan with the king ? and why should the king recompense it 
me with such a reward ? Let thy servant, I pray thee, turn back again, 
that I may die in mine own city, and be buried by the grave of my father, 
and of my mother. And all the people went over Jordan. And when the 
king was come over, the king kissed Barzillai, and blessed him." — 2 Sail 
six. 31-27, 39. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF GILEA.D. 

Heee is a noble sunset on the border hills of Palestine. 

We do not, indeed, see the sun vanishing behind the 
mountain-tops ; it is rather the flush of crimson before the 
setting. We are not called around the death-couch of 
Baezillai ; but his words all speak of approaching de- 
parture. He knows that the sand-glass is hastening to its 
last grain ; and, in the prospect of a speedy exodus from the 
house of his earthly pilgrimage, he summons us to hear his 
simple but significant discourse on the philosophy of life. 

We have only this brief glimpse in his biography. He 
comes before us, — the Melchisedek of his age, — to meet 
David, as Melchisedek had met his great ancestor, with the 
spoils of victory. He gives him his blessing, and then 
vanishes from the scene. But enough is recorded, to make 
us admire and love him; and though living in an age of 
lesser light and fewer privileges than ours, there is much 
in his character which we shall do well to imitate. 

We shall endeavour, with God's blessing, to draw one or 
two lessons from the character of Barzillai suq- ousted in the 
interesting Bible narrative. 

Let us first observe, his pity for the fallen. 

It is a beautiful picture to see this old chieftain, when he 
hears of David's sudden humiliation, hastening to the place 
of exile, to offer him his generous sympathy, along with sub- 



102 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

stantial gifts for his exhausted followers. In concert with 
other two chiefs of the Trans-Jordanic region, hearing that 
" the people is hungry, and weary, and thirsty, in the wil- 
derness" they bring with them, as presents, the fruits of 
their pastoral domains — "wheat, barley, and flour, and 
parched corn ; honey, and butter, and sheep, and cheese of 
Jcine." * Barzillai seems to have been a wealthy proprietor 
or chief in Gilead — a petty prince among the mountaineers 
of Palestine, animated with a true clansman's spirit, and 
capable of noble and generous deeds. Even though the 
gifts had been less valuable and needed, they would still 
have evinced a spirit of generous sympathy and commisera- 
tion for the fallen. The scene in these highlands of Gilead, 
where the interest centres on a dethroned monarch, forcibly 
reminds us of the same generous impulse which, more than 
a hundred years ago, in our own Scotland, stirred many a 
Highland heart : when one, in whose veins the blood of 
kings flowed, was a homeless wanderer among her moors 
and mountains. Many who had no sympathy for his cause 
commiserated his fate. They forgot the crimes of his house 
in his personal misfortunes ; they knew that he had seen 
better times — that he had once walked in royal halls ; and 
cave, and cottage, and turf-sheiling, were freely tendered to 
shelter his defenceless head. 

This pity for the unfortunate is one of the finest traits in 
our human nature. Would that it were a universal one ! 
But the world is not always so lavish of its pity. It finds it 
easier and more profitable to fawn on the prosperous, — to 
flatter the great, — to give to those from whom it may hope 
* 2 Sam. xvii. 29. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OP GILEAD. 103 

again to receive. How many, (so long as yon are in affluent 
circumstances,) will be seen in your company ; visitors at 
your house, guests at your table. But if the gifts of capri- 
cious fortune take wings and flee away — if (with no stain 
on your honour, or blot on your character,) the bleak winds 
of misfortune have scattered your hopes in the bud, and 
made havoc and ruin of your capital ; — then such friends as 
these can afford to forget you ; no time, as formerly, for a 
talk on the street, or a friendly call in passing ; — a forced, 
galvanic smile takes the place of the old familiar one. These 
are summer friends ; out, like the butterfly, on the day of 
sunshine ; away, we know not where, when the sky is cloudy 
and lowering. Ah ! there is nothing — (I speak in the case 
of reverses for which you are not morally responsible) — there 
is nothing so mean and dastardly as this. Unkindness and 
resentment, under any circumstances, are indefensible ; but 
to trample on & fallen foe — to crush the powerless — to visit 
them with coldness and unkindness at the very moment 
when they most need their aching wounds bound up — this 
is cruel indeed ! 

On the other hand, how noble is the example of Barzillai, 
and such as he, who -love to come with words and deeds of 
kindness in the hour of bitter reverse and altered fortune. 
He had often, doubtless, admired David in his greatness ; 
alike as the warrior, the king, and the saint ; and being, like 
himself, "an old man, and full of years/' he would all the 
more commiserate him when sent forth to buffet this piti- 
less storm. If he can do no more, he will hasten across 
the mountain-passes, to offer the tribute of his sympathy 
to the crownless king ; and, in accordance with oriental 



104j sunsets on the hebeew mountains. 

wont and munificence, take with him the produce of his rich 
meadows. 

Be it ours to imitate the spirit of this Gilead chief, and 
never to be guilty of the dastard act of trampling on an 
humbled foe. In commercial communities especially, where 
money is the standard of everything, and where the man in 
the ceiled house to-day, may be in the humble lodging in a 
few months, there is a greater temptation to treat misfortune 
with unkind severity ; to be all familiarity and courtesy to 
king David in the Jerusalem palace, but to be all superci- 
liousness and distance to the exile at Mahanaim ! 

" When thou ihinkest thou standest, take heed lest thou 
fall." How does our blessed Lord rebuke, in us all, this cold, 
hardened, heartless behaviour to the fallen ; ay, too, even 
when there was more than misfortune. You remember that 
withered flower that tried, in the presence of the Infinitely 
Pure One, to lift its drooping head ? The Pharisees (in the 
spirit of the world) would have crushed it in a moment. The 
disciples, in an equally cruel spirit, would have cast it among 
the wrack and weeds as outcast and polluted. But what says 
He whose great errand from heaven to earth was to lift the 
fallen, and commiserate a world of " the lost ? " " Neither 
do I condemn thee ; go, and sin no more!" 

As a second lesson, mark his disinterested loyalty. 

Expediency ! expediency ! with how many is that the 
regulating, governing principle of their lives ! — not what is 
right — but what is prudent. Such are they who sail with 
wind and tide — in politics, in religion, in commerce, in daily 
society and friendship. They will take the winning side. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF GJLEAD. 105 

They are what the world call far-seeing men. They look 
before them. They make a careful calculation of conse- 
quences ; and are not very scrupulous as to principle. 

How did right and might — principle and expediency — 
stand to one another at this juncture of Hebrew history? 
Absalom had stolen the hearts of Israel. By consummate 
art, or rather by unprincipled princecraft, he had undermined 
his father's throne, sown disaffection among the people; and, 
in short, with everything to favour him, in youth, attractive- 
ness, pomp, and display, (all powerful qualities with the 
oriental mind,) he had seized the Hebrew sceptre. Accord- 
ing to human calculations, his aged father's case might be 
deemed desperate. He had crossed Jordan, in all proba- 
bility, to his grave ; and the risk old Barzillai incurred, in 
fraternising with the outlawed king, was a serious one. 
What if Absalom and his army, in the flush of triumph, 
cross Jordan, and cut to pieces David's panic-stricken force ? 
Woe to the aged clansman of Gilead who has dared to shew 
him kindness. His hoar head will be hung a trophy on 
the gate of Mahanaim ! And Barzillai must have weighed 
all these consequences. By becoming confederate with 
David — sending these camel-loads of butter and honey and 
cheese, and these bushels of corn, — he made himself a 
marked man. His fertile fields at Eogelim, will be swept 
by the army of the usurper. He and his, will be the first to 
feel Absalom's revenge. 

But how does he act ? He will do what is right, and leave 
the results in a Higher hand. Though with fearful odds 
against him, he will cling to injured goodness, and assert the 
majesty of truth over baseness and wrong. What cared ha 



106 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

for those hollow acclaims that rose on the other side of 
Jordan, welcoming a villain to a throne to which he had 
climbed over the grey hairs of an honoured father. No; 
though he should stand alone, he will execrate the deed. 
Though it should cost him his lands, his flocks, his patri- 
monial inheritance, he will cast in his lot with dishonoured 
and deeply-injured virtue, rather than with a successful but 
unprincipled traitor. 

Had Barzillai made it a question of expediency, he would 
either have preserved his neutrality, not mixing himself up 
with the quarrel at all, but remaining in quiet possession of 
his flocks and inheritance in the south ; or else he might 
have lent the weight of his influence to the popular side, 
"for the conspiracy!' we read, "was strong ; for the people 
increased continually with Absalom." * Had he been a mer- 
cenary adventurer, by becoming confederate with the vic- 
torious army, and cutting off the supplies from the camp of 
David, he would have decided the fortunes of the day. 

How differently does he act ! He never hesitates. What- 
ever might be the result, he knows who has the right; and 
hastens to the expatriated king with acceptable supplies of 
the best he has ; ay, and with what to a wounded spirit was 
better than all the balm of Gilead or the flocks of its moun- 
tains, he carries his own sympathy and manifested pity for 
fallen greatness. 

And then, see the sequel of the history. When all was 
over ; — when a Greater than any earthly might had scattered 
the alien armies and laid low the usurper, and the venerable 
monarch was on his triumphal march back to his throne, the 

* 2 Sam. xv. 12. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF GILEAD. 107 

old Gileadite chief came down once more from his fast- 
nesses with a body of retainers, to do homage to the King 
and give him his patriot welcome and blessing. Nor was 
David forgetful of the disinterested loyalty so lately mani- 
fested. In a spirit of equally noble generosity and gratitude, 
he urged Barzillai to join the triumphal cavalcade, to come 
and have a home in his palace in Jerusalem, and a place 
and seat at his royal table. 

But he will take no reward or recompence, although what 
millions are spending a lifetime to achieve was within the 
grasp of this border Sheik. Up the steep hill of fame, few 
reach more than half-way ; fewer still ever gain the summit. 
But here was one to whom was offered the hand of friend- 
ship by the greatest king of the age, and apartments in the 
palace of Zion. Thousands would have coveted the honour. 
His name would have been on every tongue as a favoured 
old man, the envy of all his brother chieftains. 

"But no/' says he. "It was for no such base, paltry, 
selfish motive I acted a patriot's part to a patriot king. I 
brought not of my produce in hopes of getting in return some 
princely recompence. In giving in my adhesion to the cause 
of David, it was with no mean hope of bettering my position 
or aggrandising my family. Let me give and receive a 
blessing : that is all I want. Let me bend homeward these 
aged steps. My best reward — my only accepted reward — 
will be the feeling, e I have done my duty.' " 

Mark, once more, as a third lesson, his estimate of life. 
A flattering proposal had just been made to him. In the 
brilliant pageant that was sweeping past, he had a place of 



108 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

royal and conspicuous honour in his offer. Few would have 
resisted the golden bribe. But he remembered that fourscore 
years had whitened his head. A brief time, at the best, he 
could still have in the world. He had outlived the age 
when he could enjoy its pageantries and honours. "And 
Barzillai said unto the Icing, How long have I to live, that 
I should go up with the king unto Jerusalem ? I am this 
day fourscore years old ; and can I discern between good 
and evil ? can thy servant taste ivhai I eat or what I drink ? 
can I hear any more the voice of singing -men and singing - 
women 1 wherefore then shoidd thy servant be yet a burden 
unto my lord the king I Thy servant will go a little way 
over Jordan with the king i and tvhy shoidd the king recom- 
pense it me with such a reward? Let thy servant, I pray 
thee, turn back again, that I may die in mine own city, and 
be buried by the grave of my father and of my mother." 
As if he had said, "Tempt me not. The clay was when 
I might have grasped at the munificent honour. The 
day was when this heart would have beat with pride at 
the thought of being a lordly retainer of the Hebrew 
king — a guest at his table. But these things have lost 
their relish for me now. The whirl and excitement, the 
glitter and pageantry of a courtier's life have no charm. 
The festive rejoicings on the return of the king would be 
too much for this aged frame. * I am this day fourscore 
years old.' This head, once covered with raven locks, is 
now white with the snows of winter. These hands, that 
once dealt and parried the warrior's blow, have now trem- 
blingly to grasp the pilgrim's staff. These limbs, that once 
could nimbly chase the gazelle up the craggy heights of 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF GILEAD. 109 

Gilead, now totter underneath me. These eyes, ' the win- 
dows of the house/ are beginning to be darkened ; they 
look out on a dimmed and murky landscape ; I could not 
see the glories of the king's palace at Jerusalem even were I 
there. These ears, once the inlets of enjoyment, which once 
loved to hear the dulcet tones of my own mountain-pipe, 
would listen with unavailing effort to the choristers of Zion, 
or to tabret and lute and harp of sweetest Hebrew min- 
strelsy. I should be but a poor accession to the royal table 
•— a poor guest in the palace of Judah. Bid me not go 
thither ! Suffer me rather to say farewell on the banks of 
the frontier river. Eeturn ! thou monarch, beloved of thy 
Lord ! return to thy capital, and may the acclamations of a 
grateful people greet thy restoration. For myself, permit 
me quietly to abide in my own highland-home — these my 
native rugged mountains. Their sepulchres hold dust that 
is sacred to me. This is now my only unfulfilled wish, that 
■ I may die in mine otun city, and be buried by the grave 
of my father and my mother ! '" 

We cannot positively pronounce on Barzillai's piety. The 
very respect and personal kindness manifested for David, 
" the man after Cod's own heart," combined with his loyalty, 
disinterestedness, unselfishness, and filial devotion, would lead 
us to draw favourable conclusions regarding his religious 
character. At all events, we cannot think of him as a mere 
sated voluptuary, his bones full of the sin of his youth ; — with 
debilitated frame and shattered nerve, breathing out the fret- 
ful soliloquy of a peevish old age. We would accept these 
words of his, rather as the apostrophe of a good and vener- 
able old. man, who takes the grand view of life as a prelude 



110 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

to another, and who wishes to be tempted by nothing that 
would dissipate his thoughts, and unfit him for solemn pre- 
paration for his great change. " Tempt me not," he says, 
" with what might divert my thoughts from more solemn 
and urgent verities. Let me enjoy a quiet eventide before 
the great night-journey ! Let me go and set my house in 
order before I die ! " 

And it is to this we must all come ! 

Life is now before most of us, with its bright plans and 
phantom-visions ; — its rainbow-hues and air-castles. Many 
have no eyes to see the end of that glowing perspective — the 
close of the avenue, which at present is overarched with the 
green boughs of hope. But as we go on, the distance sen- 
sibly diminishes ; our consciousness becomes more and more 
vivid that the end is nearing ; and we feel that we are passing, 
like the millions that have preceded us, to the " long home/' 

"How long," said Barzillai, "have I to live?" il How 
long have I to live?" — what a solemn question for us all, 
amid the daily-occurring proofs of our frailty and mortality. 
Oh, what a motto to bear about with us continually amid the 
tear and wear of life ! 

Young man ! with the flash of young hope in thine eye ; 
existence extending in interminable vista before thee ; — pause 
ever and anon on the enchanted highway, and put the solemn 
question, " How long have I to live ? " 

Man of business ! in availing yourself of new openings in 
trade, accepting new responsibilities and anxieties, involving 
yourself in new entanglements, have you stopped at the 
threshold and probed yourself with the question, " How long 
have I to live ? " 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF GILEAD. Ill 

Child of pleasure ! plunging into the midst of dissipating 
excitement, — the whirl of intoxicating gaiety ; — have you 
ever, in returning, jaded, and weary, and worn, from the 
heated ball-room, flung yourself prayerless on your pillow, 
and sunk into a feverish dream, with the question haunting 
you, " How long have I to live ? " 

Fruitless professor! who, with the form of godliness, art 
yet destitute of every practical active Christian virtue ; who 
hast never known what it is to relieve the needy, or succour 
the poor, or whisper the word of unselfish kindness, or help 
the lanojuishino; mission-cause. Thou who hast lived a useless 
life ; — who in the retrospect can point to no one good, or 
generous, or self-sacrificing deed. Amid abounding opportu- 
nities, perhaps with full coffers at thy side, and the bar of 
God before thine eyes, hast thou ever seriously pondered the 
question — how soon the opportunity may be past and gone ! 
— " How long have I to live ? " 

How long have I ? A short time, almost all of us. And 
those who are past life's mid-day, on whom the glow of sunset 
is stealing ; those w T ho have crossed the grand climacteric, — ■ 
passed over the mountain-top, and are beginning to descend 
the shady side to the grave in the valley, — let them, especially, 
listen to the warning. Let them imitate the example of the 
aged chief — seek leisure from over-much and over-many cares, 
to prepare for death. It is strange that old age is as disin- 
clined as youth to listen to the voice of wisdom in this. You 
imagine that you can take on new worldly burdens, and reach 
heaven safe enough notwithstanding ! Ah ! these burdens 
too often weigh hopelessly down. Like the bee that has 
wandered from its garden-hive, or its hole in the rock, in 



112 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

search of honeyed treasure, but which, in winging its way 
hack, drops exhausted, and neve:' reaches home. Old Bar- 
zillai was a noble exception to this. With courtier's grace, 
and a sublime moral fortitude, he declined the regal request, 
" Come thou over with me ! " — a question which does not al- 
ways get a negative from old age, when Pleasure, shaking in 
her hands her chaplets of variegated flowers, cries, "Come 
over with me ! " — and Mammon, clinking his bags of gold, 
cries, " Come over with me ! " — and Ambition, pointing to 
the hazy mountain-top, and her coveted temple gleaming in 
the sun, cries, " Come over with me ! " 

Be it ours to reply : " I have a nobler heritage now to care 
for, a nobler temple for which to prepare. The day will come 
when these things will yield me no pleasure, — when they 
shall be seen in their true light, as the empty baubles of aa 
hour/' Oh, what though you may have all that now ministers 
to the pride of life, — affluence, prosperity, success in business 
— " gaining the whole world," if you imperil or impoverish 
your immortal soul ? What though life's morning and mid- 
day be bright and sunny, if you have made no provision 
for the wet drizzling rain of its afternoon, and find creeping 
upon you the joylessness of a godless old age. You imagine 
it will be easy enough to seek God, and find Him amid the 
dregs of existence, <e.t the close of its weary day. But it will be 
with you as with the child who imagines, in the bright morn- 
ing, that it will be safe to spend the sunny hours in play, and 
put off learning the morrow's task till night. When night 
comes, the little procrastinator is nodding over the book. 
Through fatigue and sleep, the unlearnt lesson is abandoned, 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OP GILEAD. 113 

and it wakes on the morrow with its pillow bedewed with 
tears, under the consciousness that its work is undone. 

On the other hand, how beautiful is that close of life 
which is ended with God ! " Mark thou the perfect man, 
and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace." * 
" And even to your old age I am he; and even to hoar hairs 
will I carry you : I have made, and I ivill bear ; even I 
will carry, and will deliver you" •(• What though the sun 
may have waded through clouds in the early morn ? — It has a 
couch of amber and gold now. The beginning and close of 
many a Christian's life is like that glorious Alp of which we 
have previously spoken. Its base and furrowed sides are in 
mist and cloud ; but its white, hoary summit of everlasting 
snow, is bathed in the crimson hues of fading day. 

Be it ours, to live the life of the righteous, that we may 
come at last to die their death ; and standing, like Barzillai, 
by the brink of Jordan, hear the voice and invitation of a 
Greater and Mightier than earthly monarch calling us to a 
seat at His table in the Heavenly Jerusalem. 

* Fa. xxxvii. 37. t Ps. xxi, 4 



vn. 
Bnmtt an Mount Ewtt. 



u Fain would I catch a hymn of love 
From the angel harps which ring above, 
And sing it as my parting breath 
Quiver'd and expired in death^^ 
So that those on earth might hear^ 
The harp-notes of another sphere, 
And mark, when nature faints and dies, 
What springs of heavenly life arise, 
And gather from the death they view 
A ray of hope to light them through, 
"When they should be departing too." 

— Edmeston. 

* Now these be the last words of David Although my house be 

not so with God; yet he hath made with me an everlasting covenant, 
ordered in all things, and sure : for this is all my salvation, and all my 
desire, although he make it not to grow." — 2 Sam. xxiii. 1, 5. 



SUNSUT ON MOUNT ZION. 

If we treasure, with peculiar fondness, the last sayings of 
great men, shall we not, with devout interest, contemplate 
the closing days of the sweet Singer of Israel — the great 
Minstrel of the universal Church, — whose hymns have been 
chanted for three thousand years, gladdening and consoling 
and comforting millions of aching hearts — and hear his 
"last words,"* the last cadence of his lyre? Let us watch 
the shadows gathering over the Hebrew mountains, as this 
glorious orb in the old hemisphere hastens to his setting ; — 
as a prince in Israel — poet ! warrior ! king ! saint ! all in 
one — is about to expire. 

We can imagine the aged David, like another Jacob, 
seated on his death-couch, or, at all events, with death nigh 
at hand. The grandeur of earthly empire is fast waning and 
fading from his view. The pulse, that once beat so manly 
and strong, is quickly ebbing. His harp had long been laid 
aside ; but, now that he has climbed the hill Beulah and got 
the first glimpse of the heavenly plains, its melodies must 
once more be awakened ; — his wrinkled hands must again 
sweep the strings, ere he takes up the nobler minstrelsy of 
the skies. In notes full of comfort, full of joy, not unblended 
with warning and sadness, thus he sings: — "Although my 
house he not so with God; yet he hath made with me an 
everlasting covenant, ordered in all things, and sure : for 

* 2 Sain, xxiii. 1. 



116 SUNSETS ON THE HEBKEW MOUNTAINS. 

this is all my salvation, and all my desire, although he make 
it not to grow." 

Let us, then, open this dying will and testament of " the 
man after God's own heart." Let us examine (as he repeats 
them) clause by clause, article by article, in good old David's 
dying confession of faith ; or (to retain our first figure) let 
us hearken to the successive notes of this remarkable death- 
song, as these are carried to our ears. Oh that we may 
make the better part of them, at least, our own, when we 
come to a similar hour ! 

The first note from the harp of the dying King is a note 
of sadness. He begins on the minor key — " Although my 
house be not so with God." 

His heart is filled with rapturous joy, standing as he is 
at the very gate and threshold of glory ; but bitter tears will 
force themselves to his dimming eye. At that moment a 
ray of memory darts across the past ; gloomy anticipations, 
not regarding himself but others, come looming through the 
future. With faltering voice he begins his song — "Although 
my house be not so with God!* 

An old commentator makes the quaint remark on this 
V[ v erse — " There is an ' although' in every man's life and lot." 
Paul was the mightiest of preachers, the noblest of spiritual 
heroes, but he had his "although ;" for "a thorn in the flesh 
was sent to buffet him." Jonah was " exceeding glad be~ 
cause of his gourd,'' but, a vile insect lurked unseen at its 
root. Ezekiel soared, as few prophets did, with bold, wing, 
amid the magnificent visions of Providence and Grace, but 
he was brought down to the dust with wings collapsed, — for 



SUNSET OX MOUNT ZI02T. 117 

"the desire of his eyes was taken away with a stroke." 
\ Ah, dissemble it as we may, this world is a chequered scene, 
its joys are mingled joys, and much appears to bo, joy which 
is not. Many a heart and countenance wears a semblance 
of gladness, only to conceal its deep sorrow. We cannot 
always judge of a man by what he seems. Looking at the 
sea of life, we see it studded over with white sails and gay 
pennons and sparkling waves ; we forget its eddying whirl- 
pools and treacherous reefs and brooding storms. How 
little do God's ministers know, in looking down from their 
pulpits, on apparently bright and sunny faces, gay attire, 
and undimmed eyes, how many breaking hearts there are ; — 
sorrows, too deep for utterance, with which a stranger dare 
not intermeddle ! No, we cannot let all that looks happy, 
pass for unmirigled joy. It is often the reverse ; like the 
wretched singer on the street, who passing from door to door, 
struggles to warble her gleeful songs. Singing!/ It is a 
poor counterfeit of crushing sorrow. Singing ! The tones 
are joyous ; but little does the passer-by know of the long 
tale of woe, — the widow's agony, the orphan's tears, the 
desolate hearth, — which is muffled and dissembled under 
that apparent " glee." Pass from pew to pew in our churches, 
or from door to door in our streets, and how few bosoms 
indeed would be found in which there is not an " although!' 
" I am strong and vigorous/' says one ; " I have health of 
body and activity of mind, but, I am doomed to chill penury ! " 
" I have wealth," says another ; " my cup is full, kind fortune 
has smiled upon me ; but, I am condemned to drag about 
with me a suffering frame ; my golden treasures are often a 
mockery to me, for I cannot enjoy them !" "I have both 



118 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

health and wealth," says another; "but, yonder grave has 
plundered me of what wealth and health never can purchase 
back. Mine is the saddest of all ' althoughs ; ' mine the 
bitterest 'crook' in the lot; wealth may come back again; 
health may again smile upon me ; but my children ! my chil- 
dren! These treasured barks in the sea of life that have 
gone down, no power can raise them up again, or bring them 
to my side!" 

Reader ! is this not a true picture ? We know it is. Be 
assured it would not be well were it otherwise. Were all 
bright and sunny and joyous, you would be apt to "settle 
on your lees." " The wicked have no changes" says the 
Psalmist, " therefore they fear not God." If the bark were 
not tossed, the mariners would be asleep. If the thunder 
were not sent, the air would remain unpurified. If the 
earthly lamp were not put out, you would never lift your 
eye to Heaven. These " althoughs " are like the rustling 
among the leaves, which you have seen causing the timid 
bird to hop upwards, and still upwards, from branch to 
branch, and from bough to bough, till, attaining the top of 
the tree, it wings its flight away to a securer shelter ! 

Let us proceed to the second clause in the dying confession 
of David. He passes now from the plaintive minor key, to 
happier notes and a happier theme. " Yet" — although my 
house be not so with God, — " Yet." 

We may pause for a moment over that little word. It 
bears its own message of comfort. It tells us that there are 
always solaces in our trials. The "althoughs" of life are 
generally qualified by some " yet" There is something to 



SUNSET ON MOUNT ZION. 119 

balance our griefs — some counterpart comfort, — so that we 
can say with the Psalmist, in an earlier period of his life, " In 
the multitude of my thoughts (or sorrows) within me, thy 
comforts delight my soul!' Listen to his testimony in one of 
the sorest and saddest experiences of his life. He was never 
more sad ; — an outcast from his throne — wandering beyond 4 
Jordan amid the bitter memories of departed glory. " Deep 
calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts : all thy 
ivaves and thy billows are gone^over me. Yet ! the Lord 
will command his loving -kindness in the day-time, and in the 
night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God 
of my life!' " I will* sing of meecy and judgment," says 
he, in another psalm. Oh, how many can utter the same 
in the midst of their trials ! Mark the order. He sings of 
Judgment, but meecy comes first. Our mercies are always 
greatest. The "yets" outbalance and overbalance the " al- 
thoughs" The prophet Habakkuk mourns over the "fig- 
tree without blossom," vines withered and " fruitless." But 
amid pining herds and famished flocks, and fields blackened 
with dearth and pestilence, " yet/' he adds, " will I glory in 
the Lord and rejoice in the God of my salvation." 

And is it not so with all God's true people? Tried 
believer ! are there no yets in thy night-song ? — no miti- 
gating circumstances in thine affliction ? — no " tempering of 
the wind to the shorn lamb?" — no "staying of God's rough 
wind in the day of His east wind ? " The bitter cup has its 
sweet drops ; — the dark night has its clustering stars of con- 
solation and solace ;— the " Valley of Baca " has its wells of 
joy ; — the warm and green and sunny spots in the wilderness, 
outnumber the dreary. 



120 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

But David now passes from these introductory notes, to a 
full and very glorious burst of gospel triumph. 

We have been speaking hitherto of the " yets'' — as con- 
trasting earthly sorrows with earthly solaces ; but here is 
the greatest of all consolations, — a sinner turning to the 
overwhelming contemplation of a great Saviour. Having 
touched one tuneless and broken string, he proceeds from 
the others to extract a sweet melody. " Yet he hath made 
ivith me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things, and 
sure: for this is all my salvation and all my desire." 

Let us mark each successive note in this rich anthem. 
The theme of it is, " the Everlasting Covenant." 

He speaks, first, of the Author of the covenant. " He hath 
made!' 

" He" my father's God, the God of Abraham, and Isaac, 
and Jacob, — the God w T ho found me among the sheep-cotes 
in Bethlehem ; — (happy clays ! when the pastoral staff was 
my mimic sceptre, the pastoral reed my simple harp, and the 
starry firmament my temple and palace roof ;) — " He" " the 
Lord my Shepherd/' hath made a " covenant *' with me ! 
It was He who nerved my arm for empire, and tuned my 
lips for song ; — led me to the green pastures of grace, and 
who has brought me now to the gates of glory ! 

Never let us forget that it is God, the Eternal Father, who 
is the Author of our covenant mercies. That it was He, who 
from the depths of a past eternity, planned that covenant. 
" Yea, I have loved you with an everlasting love" * " God 
so loved the world." When the temple of fallen humanity 
* Jer. xxxi. 3. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT ZION. 121 



lay prostrate in the dust, it was He who resolved on the 
work of reconstruction ; — "Behold, I lay in Zionfor a foun- 
dation, a stone, a tried stone, a precious corner-stone, a sure 
foundation!' * When the vessel of our eternal destinies was 
wrecked and stranded ; — it was a tide flowing from the sea of 
His own infinite love which set it once more floating on the 
waters. He might have left us to perish. He might have 
put a vial into every angel's hand to pour down vengeance 
on an apostate race ; — or He might have commissioned His 
Eternal Son to cast the earth into "the wine-press of His 
wrath." He might have "awoke" the sword of Justice from 
its scabbard to be bathed in the blood of the guilty ! But 
" God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the 
world, but that the world through him might be saved." 



Let us listen to another note in this covenant song, — 
another article in this covenant deed. The departing mo- 
narch's personal interest in it next engages our thoughts. 
" With me." " He hath made with me." 

Blessed assurance ! Vain would all its wondrous immuni- 
ties and privileges have been, unless David, in opening the 
charter deed, had seen his own name in living letters there. 

There is nothing that will impart true joy to the soul, but a 
believing, personal appropriation of the blessings of salvation. 
It is not enough for the sick man to know of a physician — 
he must make personal application to him for a remedy. It 
is not sufficient for the faint and thirsty traveller to reach a 
fountain, or to hear the murmur of the limpid stream, — he 
must partake of it to be refreshed. The brazen serpent was 

* Isa. xxviii. 16. 



122 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

within sight of the thousands of Israel as they rolled in the 
desert sand, gasping in agony ; — a look saved them — but 
unless they looked, they perished ! The city of refuge was 
open to the man-slayer ; — if he fled thither he was safe ; but 
if he lingered even one footstep without, — the avenger would 
cut him down ! Seek to lay hold, each individually, of the 
blessings of the gospel covenant, and to be able to say with 
the appropriating faith of the great apostle, " He loved ME, 
and gave himself for me ;" or, with the Church in the Can- 
ticles, " My Beloved is mine, and I am his/' *v 

And what is there to hinder us from making every bless- 
ing of the covenant our own? Not God, for "He hath 
justified ! " not Christ, for " He hath died ! " We cannot say 
with the king of Nineveh, " WJw can tell if God will turn ? " 
He will turn. He has turned. To each individual sinner 
He declares, " I have no pleasure in the death of him that 
dieth." He seems to take each of us by the hand, leading 
us to the patriarch's dying pillow, and saying, in the words 
He puts into the mouth of Isaiah, " I will make an ever- 
lasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David ! " 
Are we ready to reply, " Come and let us join ourselves to the 
Lord in an everlasting covenant that shall not he forgottenV 

But this suggests the next strain in the dying man's song. 
It is the perpetuity of the covenant — an " everlasting 
covenant." 

Everlasting ! What a contrast was that word to the whole 
former experience of the dying king ! He had known of 
human covenants, and how little worth they were. His past 

* Cant. ii. 16. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT ZION. 123 

history and life was a. fitful and changeful one — a tangled 
web of vicissitude — a long April day — showers and sunshine. 

And so it is, and so it ever shall be, with the ways and 
works of man. He builds his Babel towers ; and in a few 
centuries, the bleak winds, as they sweep over the deserted 
ruins, ask in bitter derision, '■ Where are they ? " He rears 
his hundred-gate cities. Their name has perished. They 
have become the wild beast's lair ; or the sea-waves moan 
over their dismantled bulwarks ! 

But it is different with God's works, and with this " work 
of all works." Amid the changes of a changing world, that 
covenant remains, "an everlasting covenant/' 

It is from everlasting ! Wing your flight back to the 
ages of eternity when it originated. How blessed to think 
that, then, God the everlasting Father loved you ! Christ the 
everlasting Son had your name ready to write on His breast- 
plate ! God the Holy Spirit was waiting to utter over the 
moral chaos, " Let there he light ! " 

And if it he from everlasting, it is to everlasting. Earth's 
future, like the past, is full of uncertainty. Look, in these 
our times, at many of the poor covenants of earth, — unstable 
as water, they cannot endure ;— delusive ropes of sand ! — 
nations alternatley becoming friend and foe — the ally turning 
the aggressor, and the aggressor the ally, — proud ambition 
trampling in the dust the sacredness of international com- 
pacts. But here is the covenant of the everlasting God. It 
is a golden chain, stretching in unbroken links from the 
eternity that is past, to the eternity that is to come ! 

Reader ! if you be a saint of God, — if you can say with 
David " He hath made with me," — what a security is yours ! 



124 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

Your title-deeds are from everlasting. " Predestinated unto 
the adoption of children;" — "heirs of God ard joint-heirs 
with Christ" — you can utter the unanswerable challenge. 
" Who shall separate me from His love?" 

And observe, just in passing, an incidental clause in the 
dying patriarch's confession regarding this covenant, — that he 
was already in possession of it. 

"He hath made!" Not that he was standing then at 
the gate of heaven, about to have that charter put by' angels 
into his hand, and his name for the first time engrossed in it. 
It was a compact in which he was already personally inter- 
ested. He had rested on it during many a weary and forlorn 
hour in his bypast pilgrimage. " Lord, thou aet my God" 
had often made " the wilderness and solitary place glad." 
It was not some far-distant shelter whither he had to flee 
when the storm overtook him. He was there already. He 
had long sat under the shadow of this " great Rock in a 
weary land ! " 

Christian ! think of your present safety and security. If 
you have closed with God's offers of mercy in Jesus, you 
are even now within the bonds of this everlasting covenant. 
You can now look up to Him with a child's confidence and 
trust, and utter the endearing name, — " My Father ! " 

But, to hasten to the remaining words of the dying min- 
strel regarding this covenant ; observe next, " It is ordered," 

— " OEDEEED." 

Which of the works of God are not pervaded by a beau- 
tiful order? Think of the succession of day and night. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT ZION. 125 

Think of the revolution of the seasons. Think of the stars 
as they walk in their majestic courses, — one great law of 
harmony "binding the sweet influences of the Pleiades, .... 
and guiding Arcturus with his sons." * Look upwards, amid 
the magnificence of nio;ht, to that crowded concave, — worlds 
piled on worlds, — and yet see the calm grandeur of that 
stately march ; — not a discordant note there to mar the har- 
mony, though wheeling at an inconceivable velocity in their 
intricate and devious orbits ! 

These heavenly sentinels all keep their appointed watch- 
towers. These Levites in the upper firmament, light their 
altar-fires " at the time of the evening incense," and quench 
them again, when the sun, who is appointed to rule the day, 
walks forth from his chamber. " These wait all upon thee."-\- 
" They continue this day according to thine ordinances, for 
all are thy servants!' j 

The same wondrous order obtains in the covenant of 
Grace. We see every attribute of God constellating in 
beauteous harmony around the cross of Jesus ; — Mercy, 
Truth, Holiness, Justice, casting a reflected glory on the 
central throne, and each throwing a lustre on the other. 
The claims of the law have been fully met. It is not a 
salvation founded on some shadowy, indefinite trust in God's 
mercy, but it is a salvation based upon everlasting righteous- 
ness. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit have combined to make 
every stone in the covenant building secure. God points us 
to the everlasting mountains, — the great barriers of creation, 
nature's mightiest types of immutability, — and says, " Th& 

* Job xxxviii. 31, 32. + Ps. civ. 27. $ Ps. exix. 91. 



126 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my 
kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the cove- 
nant of my peace be removed." * 

Again, it k ordered " in all things.' 1 

Not a want, believer, you can have, but what is supplied 
here. Christ is your Prophet, Priest, and King ; God is 
your Father ; the Holy Spirit is your Sanctifier, Guide, 
Comforter ; the blessings of the covenant, — justification, 
adoption, sanctification, peace in life, support in perplexity, 
triumph in death, grace here, glory hereafter ; — all the 
events of your life — its incidents, its accidents, its vicissi- 
tudes — are the ordered " all things " of this well-ordered 
covenant. God — " the God of all grace " — promises to give 
you all " all- sufficiency in all things." "No good thing 
will he withhold from them that walk uprightly." •(• ) 

The next note in the dying song is, that this covenant is 
" sure." 

What is sure or abiding under the sun? Our health? 
The strong frame may in a moment be bowed, and the hectic 
glow mount to the cheek of manhood. Our wealth ? It may 
breed its own worm, and take wings and flee away. Our 
friends 1 A word — a look — may estrange some ; — the grave, 
in the case of others, may have put its impressive mockery 
on the dream of earth's immortality. Our homes? The 
summons comes to strike our tent, and leave behind us the 
smouldering hearths of a hallowed past, — so that "the place 
that once knew us, knows us no more." 

* Isa. liv. 10. fPs.lxxxiv.il. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT ZION. 1 27 

But here is one thing sure. Here is a covenant which has 
the pillars of immutability to rest upon. Casting your anchor 
within the veil, you will outride the storm ; the golden chain 
of covenant grace links you to the throne of God ! That 
covenant is as sure as everlasting truth and power and 
righteousness can make it. The blood of Jesus purchased 
it, and the intercession of Jesus secures it. Mark, it is not 
" I have made with Him " — (that would be a poor security ; 
how the brittle reed would bend to every storm !) — but it is 
" He hath made with me.'' The saint's watchword and gua- 
rantee is this — " Nevertheless, I am continually with thee." 
" Thou hast holden me by my right hand." * 

" This" he adds, as the closing note of his song — " this is 
all my salvation." 

He needed no more. He had sung a short while before, 
in that beautiful 72d Psalm, of the glories of the Messiah's 
kingdom. He had seen with the eye of faith that kingdom 
extending from pole to pole, and from shore to shore. He 
had heard with prophetic ear, the gospel strain chanted 
" from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends of the 
earth." He seems to have felt at the time, as if with these 
glowing anticipations he could put aside his harp for ever — 
that such would be a befitting close to a minstrel life ; — 
" Amen, and amen," he said ; " the prayers of David, the son 
of Jesse, are ended." 

But no ! As he is now really drawing near the end of 
his pilgrimage, the spirit of the old man " revives." He had 
sweetly sung of Christ as the Saviour of a world. But he 

* Ps. lxxiii. 23. 



128 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

is now himself about to pass through the swellings of 
Jordan ; — he must again take down that harp to sing of 
Him as his own Redeemer. "He is all my salvation!" Oh, 
what a word for a dying man and a dying hour ! Christ 
" all in all/' He had no other trust. He needed no other. 

Reader, it is on a dying couch, be assured, you will be 
led most deeply to experience the preciousness of an un- 
divided trust in the Saviour. All other cobweb confidences 
shall then be swept away. It has been the significant, 
triumphant utterance of a thousand death-beds, ''Neither is 
there salvation in any other" Surely if any man could 
have felt otherwise, it' was David. True, he had great sins ; 
presumptuous sins ; but he had great and manifold graces 
also ; — manifold subjects for glorying in, to which many at 
least would have been inclined to cleave. As a King, he had 
served faithfully his day and generation. He had raised the 
covenant nation and people to a high pitch of prosperity. 
He had the materials collected for a majestic Sanctuary for 
his God. He had prepared for unborn millions the noblest 
of liturgies. But, see his last deed ! He hangs his harp on 
the cross of Calvary, saying of a Saviour "whom, having 
not seen," he "loved" — "He is all my salvation!" 

" Other refuge I have none : 

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ! " 

Once more ; he adds, " He is all my desiee," (or " my 
delight," as that word may mean.) In comparison with this, 
(his covenant God,) all earthly objects had lost their attrac- 
tions. The stars that helped to light up the Valley of Tears, 
were now dimming before a Brighter Sun ; the false glitter 
of the world, and the magnificence of empire, were fading 



SUNSET ON MOUNT ZION. 129 

before the rays of heavenly glory. He could say, with a 
meaning his own words never had before, — " Whom have I in 
heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire 
besides thee!' 

We, too, shall come, some day, to see the false and fasci- 
nating joys of earth in their true light ; — like the bubble on 
the stream, dancing its little moment on the surface, and 
then vanishing for ever ! Ah ! how cheerless will old age be, 
if it know no better than earthly delights, wherewith to fill 
the aching void of the jaded spirit ; how helpless, if it find 
the world's scaffolding removed, and no higher and nobler 
prop in its place to bear the sweep of the storm ! Take God 
as " the strength of your heart," that He may be " your por- 
tion for ever;" — yours in a living hour, that He may be 
yours in a dying hour. " He is all my delight ! " Nothing 
else — nothing less, can satisfy the cravings of an immortal 
spirit. All other happiness is a mimic happiness — a wretched 
counterfeit of the true ; — a base alloy, on which Satan may 
have stamped the currency of heaven — but it is " of the earth, 
earthy," and upon it Death will put an extinguisher for 
ever! 

We could almost have wished that the strains of the sweet 
Singer of Israel had ended here, — that his had been a glorious, 
unclouded "sunset/' But this "bird of Paradise" mount- 
ing upwards, and singing so joyously as he nears the golden 
eaves of heaven — utters, just as he is almost lost from our 
sight, one other wailing note. We dare not pass it unno- 
ticed, for it is an instructive one, full of solemn monition. 
He repeats his opening sentence — " Although he make it not 

I 



ISO SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

to grow** It was a sentence the departing monarch must 
have uttered through his tears. 

His happiness would have been complete could he have left 
the world with the joyous thought, "God is my covenant 
God— my salvation — my delight — my desire. I am soon to 
bask in His presence ; and, what augments these glorious 
prospects, is the assurance that I am not alone ; — that ' my 
house,' my family, are also 'so with God;' — I can bid 
earth farewell, knowing that my harp will be swept by the 
hand of my children's children, — that they will rejoice to 
follow their father's steps, and share in his incorruptible 
crown. This God shall be their God for ever and ever." 

But, alas ! they are far different thoughts which, for a mo- 
ment, choke the utterance of the dying king. That covenant, 
in their case, is "not to grow." It is (so far as earth is con- 
cerned) a sad farewell ; for more than one of these his own 
children have embittered his life. They are to dishonour his 
name, desecrate his grave, and forsake his God. 

And worse than all is the self-interrogation, Why all this ? 
Ah ! conscience could not fail to recall his own sin, as the sad 
and humiliating cause of family degeneracy. The words of 
Nathan, planted a thorn in that dying pillow. He was him- 
self guiltily responsible for his house being " aliens to the " 
(spiritual) " commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the 
covenant of promise.'' Eeader, see to it, that you do not 
embitter your death-bed with the agonizing reflection, that by 
your own sins, or by the force of evil example, you bequeath 
a heritage of woe to those that come after you, and with 
anguish like that of David your gray hairs "go down with 
sorrow to the grave," 



SUNSET ON MOUNT ZION. 131 

On this we shall not dwell. Let ns not mar those notes 
of joy by dwelling on this closing dirge of sorrow. Let us 
rather contemplate a house that "is so with God." Let us 
rather picture the beautiful spectacle of a whole family, linked 
in the indissoluble bonds of the one " everlasting covenant/' 
treading the same pilgrim pathway, and anticipating the same 
pilgrim rest ; — a father and mother bending their knees in 
prayer for their little ones, — themselves living a life of high- 
toned consistency — their children rising up and calling them 
blessed: — in affliction resigned; in provocation meek; in 
sickness sympathising ; and the epitaph on the family grave- 
stone, written by man and ratified by God — " These all died 
in faith" " Of such is the kingdom of heaven." 

Are we prepared to lie down on our death-beds, and to 
exult, as David did, in hopes full of immortality ? Can we 
omit the only note of sorrow in his song, and make the 
words of the dying warrior our own ? Can we sing it in life 
amid all its changes ? Can we sing it in affliction, amid all 
its tears ? Can we sing it as we walk through the valley of 
death-shade ? Can we take it with us, as our passport at 
the golden gates ? — " He hath made with me an everlasting 
covenant, ordered in all things, and sure : for this is all my 
salvation, and all my desire ! " 



vrn. 

qDIm jtaaete an % Pills of frarjw. 



" His was the pomp, the crowded hall ; 

But where is now the proud display ? 
His riches, honours, pleasure?, all 

Desire could frame; but where are they? 
And he — as some tall rock that stands, 

Protected by the circling sea, 
Surrounded by admiring bands — 

Seem'd proudly strong; and where is he? 



* The life has gone, the breath has fled 
And what has been no more shall 1 
he well-known form, the welcome ti 
Oh ! where are they ? and where is he ? " 



And what has been no more shall be ; 
The well-known form, the welcome tread, 



— Neele 

" In his days did Hiel the Beth-elite build Jericho : he laid the founda- 
tion thereof in Abiram his first-bom, and set tip the gates thereof in his 
youngest son Segub, according to the word of the Lord, which he spake by 
Joshua the son of Nun."— 1 Kings xvi. 34. 



TWO SUNSETS ON THE HILLS OF JEEICHO. 

In the midst of the reign of an idolatrous king of Israel, we 
come to an epitaph on the gravestone of two children, within 
the city of Jericho. 

It is probable that the whole family of Hiel the Beth- 
elite lie entombed in that rocky cave. Two blossoms, at all 
events, have been nipped in the bud — two "little suns" have 
set on the mountains of Judah, — going down " ere it is yet 
day." 

As we stand on the heights of Jericho, beside this newly- 
hewn sepulchre, with the Jordan flowing through the green 
plains below ; — let us inquire why it is that these two youth- 
ful pilgrims have been called so soon to tread the waves of 
the typical Jordan ; — why these two little lives have been so 
prematurely taken. 

There is always a solemn and saddening interest sur- 
rounding the death-beds and the graves of the young. There 
are often, though we understand them not, wise and loving 
reasons for these early removals. It is God's own inscrip- 
tion, though it often cannot be read through our blinding 
tears — " Taken from the evil to come." Parents often erro- 
neously infer that the Lord has been inflicting merited retri- 
bution on themselves, for their own sins, by snatching away 
ft the desire of their eyes with a stroke ; " while in reality it 
was some gracious purpose regarding the little ones them- 



134< SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

selves, sparing them unforeseen experiences of sorrow and 
sin, and gifting them with an early crown. 

In this passage of sacred story, however, we have a special 
exception. Jehovah here vindicates His own word and 
righteousness, in writing the household of this Beth-elite 
childless. It is a story of significant warning and instruc- 
tion. Though dead, these silent tongues still solemnly 
speak. 

Jericho, the old city of palms, had been lying in ruins 
for five hundred years, ever since the Israelitish conquest. 
God had pronounced by the lips of Joshua a solemn curse 
on the man who should dare to rebuild it — " And Joshua 
adjured them at that time, saying, Cursed be the man before 
the Lord, that riseth up and buildeth this city Jericho ; he 
shall lay the foundation thereof in his first-born, and in his 
youngest son shall he set up the gates of it." That curse had 
been handed down from generation to generation. Many, 
doubtless, as they passed nigh the site of the old city, and saw 
the magnificence of its situation as " the key of Palestine," 
with its two valleys behind, each pouring into it a fertilising 
stream ; — the magnificent forest of palm-trees for miles on 
every side — the Jordan flowing, with rapid torrent, amid rare 
luxuriance, on its way to the Dead Sea; — many who wit- 
nessed all these manifold natural advantages, would long to 
see the walls of the city again restored, and its ramparts 
rebuilt, as when Israel first beheld them from the opposite 
valleys of Moab. 

But any such longing was immediately repressed, when 
they recalled the stringent prohibition which threatened 
bereavement and death to the man that should dare to con- 



TWO SUNSETS ON THE HILLS OF JERICHO. 135 

travene a Divine decree. It must have been an impressive 
siMit to see the old ruins, "beautiful for situation," scattered 
as they had been for ages, untouched by the hand of man ; 
the shepherd alone, perhaps, following his flock amid the rank 
herbage, — or the wandering Arab, then, as now, pitching his 
tent amid the moss-grown stones. But no builder dared set 
his foot among them, lest haply he might be found " fighting 
against God." 

At last a bold, defiant spirit rises up, to make the daring 
venture. A dweller in Jacob's old city, — which had now, 
alas ! by the worship of AhaVs golden calves, sadly belied its 
name as "the House of God," — Hiel the Beth-elite rises up, 
in impious pride, to brave the prohibition, and risk the awful 
consequences. But who hath hardened himself against God 
and prospered? He enters the proscribed ground, and 
already, — just as he has begun to dig the foundation for a 
new capital, — a messenger speeds from his dwelling with 
heavy tidings. In digging these forbidden foundations, he 
has dug the grave of his first-born son ! On the first stone of 
the old ruins being removed, an arrow sped from the quiver of 
God with unerring aim, and laid low the pride of his heart. 

Will he take warning ? Another child still is left, — his 
youngest — probably his only other — his Benjamin — his 
best beloved. Amid the bitterness of the first bereavement, 
he fastens the severed tendrils of affection around his surviv- 
ing boy, saying, " This same shall comfort us." Surely now 
at least he will profit by the awful voice of warning ! The 
Hebrew workmen will be disbanded from their cursed enter- 
prise, and desolation will once more be installed amid the 
lonely ruins. 



136 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

Nay, it has been well said by the preacher, " The heart of 
the sons of men is full of evil ; and madness is in their heart 
while they live, and after that they go to the dead."* The 
arrow is again on the string. He refuses to humble him- 
self by repentance, — own the Divine hand, and desist from 
his impious enterprise. With "hardened and impenitent 
heart" he spurns the awful counsel, and will none of the 
reproof ! 

He has cleared the foundations. Stone by stone, edifice by 
edifice is rising ; — an imposing city again crowns the Jordan- 
heights, and looks forth amid its forests of majestic palms. 
Hiel, inflated with pride, forgets the early warning. If 
staggered at first by the occurrence of the death of his first- 
born, simultaneously with the digging of the city's founda- 
tions, he speaks of it, as we often find many still doing in 
similar circumstances, only as " a strange and unhappy coin- 
cidence." His inmost thought is, "Let me bury my vain 
grief for the loss of my first-born. I have yet a son called 
by my name. He will be the pride of my family. He will 
transmit my name to posterity as the founder of the second 
Jericho." 

The battlements are reared. The walls are completed. 
Perhaps thousands are congregated to witness the last act in 
the bold enterprise, — raising the ponderous gates of iron on 
their hinges. Something like the ovation of a conqueror 
awaits the hero of the day. Kiel's bosom is swelling at the 
moment with the one dominant thought — " This is the great 
city I have built." But another messenger, at that moment, 
— like him who sped to the patriarch of a former age — comes 
* Eccles. ix. 3. 



TWO SUNSETS ON THE HILLS OF JEEICHO. 187 

with the heaviest tidings a parent's heart can hear. The 
voice of triumph is that day turned to mourning. " Joseph 
is not, and Simeon is not," and his own obdurate disregard 
of the Divine command compels the taking of " Benjamin 
also." The first procession we see treading the new streets is 
a funeral crowd. Hiel is the chief mourner. He is bearing 
his last — his only one — to the rocky vault where his first-born 
lies. He has rushed with madness against the bosses of 
Jehovah's buckler, and terrible has been the price of his 
hardihood and sin ; for " He has laid the foundation in 
Abiram his first-born, and set up the gates thereof in his 
youngest son Segub, according to the word of the Lord, 
which he spake by Joshua the son of Hun." 

As that mournful procession is pacing the streets, let us 
join it in thought, and gather solemn lessons and warning 
for ourselves. 

What could have induced Hiel to brave so solemn a pro- 
hibition, and risk incurring so awful a penalty? — A Beth- 
elite — a ''Hebrew of the Hebrews" — he must, like all his 
brethren, have been abundantly cognisant of the curse re- 
corded by Israel's leader. It was the nursery tale of every 
Hebrew mother to her child. How came he to be so mad 
and foolhardy as to dare the Almighty's displeasure, and 
serve himself heir to the curse ? To get his name immor- 
talised as the founder of a city, was a poor equivalent for the 
irreparable loss. And, independent of natural affection, to a 
Jew, (as the possible ancestor of Messiah,) the heaviest inflic- 
tion was the deprival of his offspring. 

Let us try to conjecture one or two reasons for Hiel's con- 
temptuous disregard of the Divine command 



1S8 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

To take the extreme view of his character, Hiel (Israelite 
by name as he was) may have been , in heart, like many pro- 
fessing religionists still, a practical Infidel and Atheist. We 
know that, under Ahab's reign of unparalleled wickedness 
and irreligion, many were contaminated with the impiety of 
the reigning monarch. Gocl, the God of their fathers, was 
by multitudes virtually disowned. Hiel may have denounced 
the whole story of the threatened curse as a fable, — a bug- 
bear and delusion ; — some old legend of a lying prophet, — - 
the falsehood palmed on a credulous age and people ; and 
when, passing oftentimes along the valley of the Jordan, he 
saw that marvellous site abandoned to ruin and decay, solely, 
as he surmised, on account of a foolish superstition, he at 
length resolved to expose and unmask the lie. He put forth 
his hand, like Achan, to touch the accursed thing ; saying in 
his heart, in the words of the wicked boasters of old, with a 
proud, self-confident, infidel sneer, " The Lord shall not see, 
neither shall the God of Jacob regard." * But woe to the 
worm of the dust that contendeth with his Maker ! As wave 
after wave sweeps over his household, the solemn truth is 
brought home to him, — the confession is extorted from him 
amid the wail of death — " Who hath hardened himself 
against the Lord, and prospered V'\ "It is a fearful thing 
to fall into the hands of the living God." J 

How many are there, it is to be feared, with Hiel's spirit 
still among ourselves ! God has put a solemn curse on the 
man who will dare to upbuild the city of iniquity. He has put 
a curse, too, on the neglecter of salvation. He has solemnly 
declared, " Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not 

* Ps. xciv. 7. t Job. ix. 4. $ Heb. x. 81. 



TWO SUNSETS ON THE HILLS OF JERICHO. 139 

be unpunished." * But there are those (bearing, it may be, 
like Hiel, the name of Israelite), — outward professors, — who 
carry inwardly Hiel's atheist heart. They spurn God's curse ; 
they treat His solemn averments about death, judgment, eter- 
nity, as idle tales. Ay, and there is so much, to them, startling, 
and apparently inconsistent, in the providential government 
of God, that, in their secret thoughts, they deny alike a moral 
government and a moral Governor. Eegardless of conse- 
quences, " they will take their chance ; " they will outbrave 
these denunciations ; — they will build where God has for- 
bidden to build. They say, with the people to whom Ezekiel 
prophesied, "The Lord hath forsaken the earth ;"f — what 
care we for lying prophets — enthusiastic dreamers ! — neither 
nature nor experience endorses these pulpit utterances and 
Bible threats. " "We will walk in the light of our own eyes. 
Who is the Lord, that He should reign over us ? " 

"Woe unto them that are wise in their own eyes, and 
prudent in their own sight ! " " Woe unto the wicked ! it 
shall be ill with him ; for the reward of his hands shall be 
given him." J; God may not, as in the case of Hiel, undeceive 
you, in this world, in your atheist- dream. He seldom now, 
as in the old dispensation, makes visible and temporal retri- 
bution to descend on the scorners of His word and warnings ; 
sentence against an evil work is not now, as it then was. 
"executed speedily," and therefore the hearts of the sons of 
men are all the more "fully set in them to do evil." But 
there is a day coming, when, as the gates of death close upon 
you, (as Hiel's gates closed on Jericho,) the Divine denun- 
ciations shall be awfully verified; and the conviction be 

* Prov. xi. 21. t Ezek. viii. 12. £ Isa. iii. 11. 



140 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

solemnly flashed upon yon, (shall it be for the first time ?) 
before the great white throne, " Verily there is a God that 
judgeth in the earth ! " 

But let us pass to a more modified view of Hiel's self- 
delusion. In rebuilding Jericho, he may have had an honest 
belief in the being and power of the God of his fathers, 
as well as in the truthfulness and reality of Joshua's warn- 
ing. But he may have been influenced by the thought that 
the stringency of the old prohibition may now have been 
relaxed ; that what was imperative enough in Joshua's 
time, was not so binding after the lapse of five centuries. 
Time does much in softening the rigour of man. He may 
have measured the Divine feelings and procedure by a com- 
parison with the human ; he may have concluded that God 
had now modified the severity of the olden curse. "There 
surely" (he would argue) " could be no great sin, or risk, or 
danger now, in rescuing a noble site from ruin, and erecting 
a strong frontier-city to guard incursions from the border- 
tribes of Moab. The curse, binding and literal at the time, 
had now, surely, become obsolete." He may have even made 
out a case of necessity ; that he was only doing a patriot's 
deed, for which he would be lauded in all coming time as 
one of the heroes of the nation ! 

Man may change, but God never can. " One day is with 
the Lord as a thousand years/ 9 When God pronounces a 
curse, it is not as a human being, who is influenced by mo- 
mentary emotion, passion, prejudice. The wrath of God is 
not a passion, but & principle. It is the calm, deep, deliberate 
recoil of His nature from sin. His word is unalterable, — - 
His judgments are subject to no waywardness or caprice. 



TWO SUNSETS ON THE HILLS OF JEPJCHO. 141 

How many there are, in these days of ours, who apply 
Hiel's false reasoning to the Word of Gocl and its solemn 
averments. Disciples, as they call themselves, of a dreamy 
dogma ; — or theory of " development," who dare to speak and 
write of the Bible as an antiquated book, containing only the 
utterances of some Jewish shepherds, and vinedressers, and 
fishermen ; and whose day, and meaning, and obligations are 
past. As "progress," say they, is the world's normal law, 
so there is advance here, as in everything else. This Bible, 
with its old-world threatenings, was all very well for that 
old-world state of things, — when it was a child, and spake as 
a child, and understood as a child. But now the world has 
reached its manhood, and " put away childish things." The 
Bible curses are contained in the code of " the law which 
gendereth to bondage." We live under the Gospel, and the 
truth has made us free. The God that spoke in curses amid 
the blackness, darkness, and tempest of Sinai, is not the God 
who now speaks to us from heaven. 

He is ! The same " God, who at sundry times and in divers 
manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the pro- 
phets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son' 1 * 
And hear how that Son speaks ; — they are his own living 
utterances : — " Think not that I am come to destroy the law 
or the prophets : I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil. 
For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one 
jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the laiv, till all be 
fulfilled'' -f- His word is very faithful. His word and His 
throne have immutability to rest upon. " i" am the Lord; 1 
change not." \ " These things," he says to every such pre- 
• Heb. i. 1. t Mat. v. 17, 18. X Mai. iii. 6. 



SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

sumptuous dreamer, "these things hast thou done, and I 
kept silence ; thou thoughtest " that I was changed, — that I 
had altered the thing that had gone forth out of my mouth, 
— " that I was altogether such an one as thyself" But I will 
demonstrate my righteous adhesion to every threat against 
'•' the workers of iniquity." " / will reprove thee, and set 
them in order before thine eyes"* 

Let us beware of measuring God by our puny selves. 
Oblivion does its work with us. Time, like the waves of 
the sea on the rippled sand, obliterates much of the memories 
of sin ; and because it does so, we are apt impiously to dream 
that such is the case with God also. But He is " the same 
yesterday, and to-day, and for ever." The past, and present, 
and future are to Him alike. There was to Him, no measur- 
able period of time between Joshua's utterance of the curse 
against a builder of the doomed city, and Hiel's futile attempt 
to fight against it. Be assured, all that God hath said in 
His Word in ages past remains uncancelled, unaltered, and 
unalterable, to this hour. We may well write, " Thus saith 
the Lord," on every curse, as well as every blessing. With 
the memorable example and signal retribution of Hiel before 
us, let us make it our earnest prayer, " Keep back thy servant 
also from presumptuous sins." 

We have just surmised, that one false idea which Hiel 
may have fostered, and trusted in, was, that the lapse of 
ages had modified the stringency of the old prohibition. He 
may also have been influenced in his undertaking by an ex- 
pectation that God would not rigidly stand to His word — ■ 

* Ps. I 21. 



TWO SUNSETS ON THE HILLS OF JERICHO. 143 

that He would not adhere so sternly to His threat, as many 
supposed and dreaded He would. 

Perhaps he might be strengthened in this supposition by 
what he had observed in his own native city of Bethel. He 
had there seen that same God of Israel foully dishonoured, — 
His name blasphemed, — His word and authority scorned, — 
golden calves and Baal-shrines polluting the sacred places ; 
— and yet, notwithstanding, He had interposed with no visible 
judgment. He seemed to "wink" at these heinous sins. 
He had visited the idolaters with no retribution. Hiel, from 
all this, may have drawn the unwarrantable conclusion that 
Jehovah was not rigid in the enforcement of His threats ; — 
that He did not mean all He said ; — that, having apparently 
overlooked the Bethel calf-worshippers, He would not be over 
severe on the less heinous sin of braving His curse in the 
building of Jericho. 

He makes the awful venture. But first, over the grave of 
his elder, and then of his younger son, he is brought to read 
the inscription — " God is not a man that he should lie, or the 
son of man that he should repent." As he returns, through 
the streets of the new-built city, to his rifled home, and as 
he marks the two vacant seats in his desolate house, he 
could say — (may we hope it was through penitent tears 
of shame and sorrow and devout humiliation), — " God hath 
spoken once, yea, twice have I heard this, that power be- 
longeth unto God ! " 

Ah ! is not Hiel's reasoning here, too, the ruinous, soul- 
deluding reasoning of multitudes still ? There is no more 
common or fallacious argument than this : — " God will not 
be over-strict. His nature and His name are love. He never 



144s SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

could, and never will, curse the creature of His own making. 
These denunciations will be modified and softened at the 
Great Day. His justice will merge into compassion. Stern 
Retribution will descend these iron steps, and Mercy will 
ascend triumphant to her golden throne." 

"Nay, but, man, who art thou that repliest against 
God ? " Go back to these twin graves at Jericho, and read 
in them the great principle of God's moral government — 
that when He says, " Cursed be the man,'" He means " cursed," 
and when He says, "Blessed," He means "blessed" 

You remember, when Saul ventured on a similar unworthy 
tampering with the Word of God, in the commanded extir- 
pation of Amalek, and reserved (contrary to an express injunc- 
tion) King Agag and the goodliest portion of his flocks and 
herds. He doubtless imagined that there was no great evil 
in the reservation itself; — that, at all events, God would 
overlook it ; — that He would visit so trivial a departure from 
the letter of His "Word with no great severity. What was 
the result ? Saul lost his kingdom. The prophet of Jehovah 
stood before the monarch, confronting him with the question, 
" What meaneth this bleating of sheep in mine ears, and the 
lowing of the oxen which I hear 1 " " Because thou hast re- 
jected the word of the Lord, he hath also rejected thee from 
being Icing" * The Lord is not slack concerning His pro- 
mises, (and that is a blessed truth to ns !) But let us 
always view it side by side with its counterpart — " The Lord 
is not slack concerning his threatening s." When we see 
vice apparently unrebuked, walking with unblushing front, 
pillowed often in affluence, — the wicked apparently with no 
* 1 Sam. xv. 2& 



$W0 SUNSETS ON THE HILLS OF JERICHO. 145 

bands either in their life or death ; — we are apt to draw the 
false inference that God is, like Baal, " asleep" — that He has 
flung the reins of His moral government loose to chance — 
that He takes " no account of these matters." But though 
it is true that His dealings now-a-days are so far altered from 
those of the earlier dispensation, that transgression is not 
followed by temporal retribution, — yet judgment is in awful 
reversion. The sinner treasures up to himself " wrath against 
the day of wrath/' God is saying now, in words He uttered 
of old to Isaiah, " I will take my rest ; I will consider in 
my dwelling-place!' '* This is the time for His "considering!' 
The weapon of vengeance is still sheathed. He has no plea- 
sure in the death of him that dieth. He waits to be gracious. 
But let us not misconstrue His forbearance as if it denoted 
any alteration in His purposes. If not now, at least hereafter, 
on the Great Day, the awful truth shall be made manifest : 
" Be sure your sin will find you out." " Walk in the ways 
of thine heart and in the sight of thine eyes ; but know that 
for all these things God will bring thee into judgment." f 

The great practical lesson from all this subject is, Beware 
of resisting God. 

Ever and anon He speaks to all of us solemnly in His 
providences. Let us beware of attempts to stifle His voice 
and precipitate our own ruin. Hiel's offence was deeply 
aggravated. When the impious builder, in digging the city's 
foundation, carried to the grave his elder-born, — he might 
well have bowed his head in the dust, — owned God's sove- 
reignty, and " turned at His reproof." But he despised all 

* Isa. xviii. 4. + Eccles. xi. 9. 

K 



146 SUNSETS ON THE HEBKEW MOUNTAINS. 

His counsel. The solemn warning failed to impede him in 
his unrighteous resolution. The buildings rose ; but he was 
only thereby exposing his bosom to another dart of death. 

How many there are among ourselves like Hiel ! Reader ! 
God has spoken to you once by some solemn warning ; — by 
sickness — by worldly loss — by opening perhaps the grave of 
your child. Have you listened to His voice ? — Have you 
bowed to the rod ? — Have you profited by the warning ? — Or 
is it the case that the monition has passed and gone ? — that 
the Jericho of pleasure or sin is rearing just as before, — 
provoking Him to new, and, it may be, severer judgments ? 

"Harden not your hearts." "Exhort one another" says 
the apostle, " while it is called to-day, lest any of you be 
haedened through the deceitfulness of sin." Beware, like 
Moab, of " settling on your lees/' of getting into that awful 
state of callousness and indifference, alike under warning and 
mercy ; — " nourishing your hearts for a day of slaughter." * 
In the case of Hiel, it was a presumptuous hardening after 
God had solemnly pled with him through tears of parental 
anguish. Remember that solemn word — "He that being 
often reproved hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be de- 
stroyed, and that without remedy."* Are any who read 
these words sinning in the face of solemn monitions, when 
God is giving them " line upon line, precept upon precept " 
— speaking to them by "earthquake/' or "whirlwind," or 
" fire," or " the still small voice ? " Be assured He will yet 
make inquisition for these rejected warnings — this unrequited 
love ! Go in thought to Jericho. Stop and read the epitaph 
on that tombstone — " Consider this, ye that forget God!" 

* Prov. xxix. 1. 



TWO SUNSETS OX THE HILLS OF JERICHO. 147 

One other sentence in conclusion. Let none suppose, from 
ail that has been suggested by this subject, that we entertain 
a repulsive theology ; — a theology that would represent God 
— the loving father of His people — as a vindictive Being, 
armed wil h curses, stronger to smite, than " strong to save." 
He visits indeed " iniquity unto the third and fourth genera- 
tion of them that hate him;" but He shews "mercy unto 
thousands of them that love him.'''' While, " He can by no 
means clear the guilty," yet " He delighteth in mercy.'''' His 
blessings are more abundant than His curses. His gospel 
message begins with the proclamation of "peace on earth 
and good-will to men ;" and it ends with the invitation, 
" Whosoever will, let him come and take of the water of life 
freely."* The infatuated builders of every city of sin — what 
can they expect but ruin and disaster ? But " we have a strong 
city — salvation will God appoint for walls and bulwarks;" 
and He who, by His own blood, purchased a right to bestow 
upon us that city, says, as He stands by its gates, " Come unto 
me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give 
you rest."\ Yes, say not that we teach a gloomy theology 
with such a God as this ; — who, in order that He might be a 
Father to us, " spared not his own Son." Hiel, from pride 
and vainglory, sacrificed his son in laying the foundation of 
an earthly city. But we can tell of a great Being who, in lay- 
ing the foundations of a more magnificent city than earth ever 
saw, surrendered " His only-begotten" His " well-beloved." 
He laid its foundations, — He set up its immortal gates in the 
death of His First-born ; and all in order that guilty, worth- 
less sinners might be saved! — that in the exercise of His 

. .* Rev. xxii. 11. f Matt, xi 23. 



148 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

paternal love, He might embrace a lost world in the arms of 
His mercy, and exclaim, " This my son was dead, and is alive 
again ; he was lost, and is found /" 

That city expands its sheltering portals to all. None are 
forbidden to enter. We are encouraged to " open the gates, 
that the righteous (those made righteous through the right- 
eousness of another) may enter in" A city in which — 
unlike that of which we have been speaking — the wail of the 
mourner is never heard, and where death never enters ! 

Oh, look away from all human shelters to that " city which 
hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." Be 
assured, all who are content with building for earth the 
Jerichos of the present, shall find there the grave of their 
hopes. But " they of this city shall flourish like grass on 
the earth." " The world passeth away, and the lust thereof, 
but he that doeth the will of God abidethfor evert" 



IX. 

% f0ir0 gag anb fate %mwL 



"When he wrapp'd 
His purple mantle gloriously around, 
And took the homage of the princely hills 
And ancient forests, as they bowed them down, 
Each in his order of nobility. 
And then, in glorious pomp, the sun retired 
Behind that solemn shadow, and his train 
Of crimson and of azure and of gold, 
Went floating up the zenith, tint on tint, 
And ray on ray, till all the concave caught 
His parting benediction." 

" But Jehoiada waxed old, and was full of days when he died ; an hun- 
dred and thirty years old was he when he died. And they buried him 
in the city of David among the kings, because he had done good in 
Israel, both toward God and toward his house." — 2 Chron. xxiv. 15, 10. 



A LONG DAY AND LATE SUNSET. 

That must have been a remarkable spectacle in Jerusalem, 
when this funeral procession was seen wending along the 
ridge of Mount Zion, on its way to the sepulchre of the 
kings. No royal head has bowed to the stroke of death, — 
and yet the gates of that sacred mausoleum, which holds 
the dust of David, Solomon, and the succeeding kings, have 
that day been flung open to receive an addition to its silent 
trust ! 

Who can be the newly-embalmed and shrouded occupant 
for the long home of silence ? For whom has a nation decreed 
this strange, unwonted honour ? Honour, indeed, it was ; 
for zealously were these precincts guarded against unworthy 
entrants. Royalty itself was not always a passport through 
these gloomy portals, if life had been stained with dishonour 
or crime. The very last king who died in his palace in 
Jerusalem (though the blood of David flowed in his veins) 
was deemed unmeet to repose along with the dust of his 
sires. After an inglorious reign of eight years Jehoram was 
buried, we are told, " in the city of David, but not in the 
sepulchres of the kings" * 

Who, then, is this honoured subject for whom regal obse- 
quies are appointed, whilst his master is left to his long 
slumber in a meaner resting-place ? No regalia, no imposing 
symbols of royalty, are carried alongside that bier ; yet the 

* 2 Chron. xxi. 20. 



152 SUNSETS ON THE HEBKEW MOUNTAINS. 

long funeral crowd, and the undisguised, undissembled 
lamentations, truthfully proclaim that "a prince in Israel 
has fallen." 

True, Jehoiada, in his official position, as God's high priest, 
was worthy of all honour ; yet, most of the Jewish pontiffs 
passed to their graves in strict privacy, without leaving in 
the sacred chronicles even a register of their death or burial. 
It was his character and worth, not his position, which 
gathered that mourning crowd, and opened that place of 
honoured interment ! We are summoned in thought to the 
funeral of a faithful public servant, — a venerable patriarch, 
— a minister and man of God ; — one who, for the long period 
of one hundred and thirty years, had lived out that great 
definition of spiritual existence, " to be good and to do good." 
His name was not associated with great hero-deeds or bril- 
liant martial exploits. He had a better and nobler vocation. 
By his piety and zeal, his prudence and sagacity, he had 
steered the ark of God amid environing storms. Half a 
generation— thirty years — had passed, since he had been able 
to engage in active duty ; but even that long " sunset " — that 
period of deepening twilight — was one, too, of sacred and 
momentous influence. Alas ! no sooner had his hand left 
the helm, and death sealed his eyes, ,than the ark was once 
more among the breakers. His brother Hebrews, therefore, 
had not miscalculated his worth when they followed his 
body to its grave with tears, and decreed to him regal obse- 
quies. 

The funeral is all left to imagination. The sepulchre on 
Zion has long ago mouldered with the royal dust which for 
ages it enclosed ; but the epitaph on Jehoiada's shrine is still 



A LONG DAY AND LATE SUNSET. 153 

left deathless and imperishable on the pages of Scripture — 
" They buried him in the city of David among the kings, 
because he had done good in Israel, both toward God, and 
toward his house." 

As we read his panegyric let us select, among others, 
three features of his character which stand out with special 
prominence — his faith, his intrepidity, and his disinterested- 
ness. 

I. His faith. 

His lot, as we have just said, was cast in a stormy period 
of Judah's history. It will require a brief historical sum- 
mary to put the reader in possession of the ecclesiastical 
and political exigencies of the time. 

One of the basest and most unscrupulous of tyrants (a dis- 
grace to her sex) swayed at this moment the usurped sceptre 
of the house of David. It was the one only blot in the fair 
fame of good Jehoshaphat, that, from motives of worldly 
policy (oh, how many in a similar way blight and ruin their 
children's prospects), he brought about an unhallowed mar- 
riage-union between his son and successor to the throne and 
a daughter of Ahab and his infamous queen Jezebel. Atha- 
liah inherited alike the depraved nature and practice of her 
Syrian mother ; she obtained a speedy control over the facile 
mind of Jehoram, who, obliterating all memory of his father's 
goodness, plunged into the wild excesses of the house of 
Ahab— importing to Jerusalem Phenician idolatries, and 
stripping the very Temple to decorate a shrine for Baal 
His name means " God-exalted," but by his own guilty deeds 
he became rather God-forsaken. Philistines and Arabians 



154j S rx -csETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

wei r i>"^red up to inflict on him the divine retribution. 
The*' sacked the palaces, dragged his wives and children 
into captivity — Athaliah and her son Ahaziah alone being 
left. ^ 

Ahaziah's reign was a brief and inglorious one. He fell, 
mortally wounded, on the heights of Jezreel, and was buried 
in Samaria. On his unexpected decease, the artful queen- 
mother, as the only means of perpetuating her power, and of 
gratifying an unnatural ambition, resolved on the desperate 
and unscrupulous measure of consigning the remaining seed- 
royal to a cruel and indiscriminate massacre. " Can a 
woman forget her sucking child, that she may not have 
compassion on the son of her womb ? She may forget." * 
Yes, she did forget ! It was her own unhappy grandchildren 
whose blood had to answer the sanguinary edict ! 

Good old Jehoiada the high priest, at an age extending to 
nearly a century, looked on in dismay at the inauguration of 
this reign of terror. He was himself united in marriage to a 
daughter of Jehoram ; and they were jointly cognisant of a 
fact that had escaped the knowledge of the regicide — viz., 
that one infant child of the king still survived the cruel ex- 
termination. They knew God's promise, and they had faith 
to believe that it would not fail. " The Lord hath sworn in 
truth unto David ; he will not turn from it. Of the fruit 
of thy body will I set upon thy throne, "f It was a peril- 
ous experiment — a bold venture, whose discovery would cost 
them their lives ; but they resolved (confiding the fact to a 
select few) to secrete this only remaining scion of David's 
line, with his nurse, in one of the chambers of the Temple. 

* Isa. xlix. 15. f Ps. exxxii. 11. 



A LONG DAY AND LATE SUNSET. 155 

Meantime they would watch the favourable moment, to wrest 
for him the sceptre from the hands of the usurper, and in- 
vest him with his hereditary rights. 

We can imagine that nothing but a devout faith in God 
could have instigated this pious pair to so perilous a resolve. 
It was, of all others, a subject for the exercise of faith. The 
very spot in the sacred corridors where that little one night 
by night was rocked asleep, seemed to be a pledge of safety 
and success. Was it not of the temple-courts the Lord Him- 
self said, " There will I make the horn of David to bud ; 
I have ordained a lamp for mine anointed! 1 * Might not 
this be the sacred lullaby his aunt loved to sing in the sacred 
chamber over his cradle, " In the time of trouble he shall 
hide me in his pavilion ; in the secret of his tabernacle he 
shall hide me 1 "f Yes S God had " ordained a lamp for his 
anointed." That lamp was nickering. It was reduced to 
one feeble spark in the person of a little infant. The extinc- 
tion of that spark would be the extinguishing of God's pro- 
mise. But they knew that " what God had promised, he was 
able also to perform." That tiny lamp was confided to their 
custody. They would do all they could, looking to Him for 
a blessing, to preserve it from being quenched by the fury 
of the oppressor. Did not the parents of Moses, in similar 
circumstances, and in the face of an exterminating massacre, 
hide their child for three successive months, and " were not 
afraid of the king's commandment V In a like spirit, unde- 
terred by the certain vengeance which disclosure of their plot 
would entail, they are " strong in faith, giving glory to God." J 

Oh, for a spirit of similar faith in the midst of diffi- 
* Ps. exsxii. 17. + Ps. xxvii. 5. ± Eom. iv. 20. 



156 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

culties, — believing God's declarations, trusting His faith- 
fulness, and with our finger on His promises, saying, 
"Remember this word unto thy servant, on which thou hast 
caused me to hope I " God often puts us in perplexing 
positions for the trial of our faith. He brings his people, 
or his Church, into exigencies, where " vain is the help of 
man/ 7 just that we may, with unswerving confidence, cast 
our burdens upon Him, saying, with the Psalmist, " This 
I knoiv ; for God is for me. In God will I praise His 
word; in the Lord will I praise His word. In God 
have I put my trust ; I will not be afraid what man can 
do unto me! >% 

II. Let us note Jehoiada's boldness and intrepidity. 

Boldness in action is the necessary result of faith. It is 
the principle of faith bearing fruit. Doubtless, Jehoiada had 
oft and again commended his enterprise in prayer to Him 
" who dwelt between the cherubim," and was encouraged, by 
an appeal to the Urim, to go boldly forward. 

It was on a Sabbath morning — when the sacrifice was 
laid on the altar, and the crowd were standing round the 
outer temple-gates. The fresh relay of priests and Levites 
had just come in ; and the others, whose weekly course that 
day expired, according to wont, remained inside the sacred 
enclosure till evening. Thus a double guard — a double force 
was secured, for the carrying out of the bold plot. The 
secret, wisely and judiciously confided to a confidential few, 
had been whispered in other favouring ears. Jehoiada con- 
certed with -• the rulers of hundreds, and the captains," and 
* Ps. lvi. 9-11. 



A LONG DAY AND LATE SUNSET. 15? 

lie said unto them, " Behold, the Icings son shall reign, as the 
Lord hath said of the sons of David." * The votive trophies 
of battle, — spears and swords which king David had placed 
in the temple-armoury, — were taken down from the walls on 
which they had for a century hung. Making use of these 
weapons, the enrolment of a volunteer band of priests and 
Levites was speedily completed. These were posted at the 
several avenues, to guard alike against confusion or attack. 
On a raised seat or platform, adjoining "the monarch's 
pillar," with massive golden crown on his head, and the tes- 
timony in his hand, stood an innocent boy of seven years of 
age. It was young Joash, the alone survivor of the mur- 
dered family ! But there he was, God's own pledge that the 
fruit of David's body should "sit upon his throne!" And 
now the astounding fact, (for six years carefully concealed 
from the populace,) that in these priestly chambers there 
slumbered, night after night, an heir of the throne of Juclah, 
was made known ! It spreads with the speed of a conflagra- 
tion. The shout " God save the King ! " rises first in the 
Temple-court. It is caught up by the dense crowd thronging 
the gates. The strange, unwonted commotion floats across 
the Tyropean Valley, and is wafted in at the palace windows to 
the ears of the queen. In a few moments she has crossed the 
bridge connecting palace and temple. A glance of her infu- 
riate eye reads the whole truth. " Treason ! treason ! " she 
cries in vain, to her dumb, unpitying, unsuccouring guards. 
Her life of guilt is fast ebbing to a close — her die is cast. 
As the shouts of a patriot people are ringing a welcome to 
their young king, the infamous Athaliah is dragged outside 

* 2 Chron. xxiii. 3. 



158 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

the sicied enclosure to pay the just penalty for her crimesi 
She lies weltering in her own blood ! 

We cannot sufficiently admire the calm forethought, the 
consummate prudence, and the determined intrepidity of 
Jehoiada. It was an enterprise which required a wise head 
and a strong hand, as well as a pious heart. We should 
naturally look, at all events, for the accomplishment of such 
a plot to other than one whose head was whitened with the 
snows of a century. In this respect, it is a deed unparalleled 
in the annals of sacred history. Such exploits generally 
demand the prime of manhood, when the sun of life is at its 
meridian. We look for quiet bars of purple and gold — 
emblems of repose — when that sun is going down ; — then 
" the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men bow 
themselves, and those that look out of the windows are 
darkened; when fears are in the way, and the grasshopper 
is a burden, and desire fails" * The stirring ambition, as 
well as the physical endurance, requisite for such deeds, have 
then generally declined ; and when they occur, we must look 
for some stronger than any impelling natural principle. God 
had evidently nerved that old man's arm. He had girded 
him for the battle. He had, with reference to his old age, veri- 
fied the truth of that unfailing promise : giving " strength " 
equal to his " day." He had answered his prayer — " O God, 
thou hast taught me from my youth: and hitherto have I 
declared thy wondrous works. Now also, when I am old 
and grey-headed, God, forsake me not, until I have 
shewed thy strength unto this generation, and thy power to 
every one that is to come." + 

* Ecclei. xii. 5. t Ps. lxxi. 17, 18. 



A LONG DAY AND LATE SUNSET. 159 

It belongs not to God's ministers to intermeddle with 
political intrigues, save in the gravest emergencies, when 
His cause and His Church are concerned in the issue. But 
it is a remarkable and encouraging fact that, in all great 
and momentous crises of His Church's history, when its 
bulwarks have been assailed by enemies without or traitors 
within, He has ever raised up men adequate for the exi- 
gency ; sage in counsel ; firm in principle ; bold and 
intrepid in action ; who have, like Jehoiada, not only 
been instrumental in sheathing the sword of oppression, 
''stilling the enemy and the avenger," but in vindicating 
truth, upholding the cause of righteousness, and transmit- 
ting a heritage of spiritual blessings from generation to 
generation. 

III. Let us further mark Jehoiada's disinterestedness. 

Duty and self-interest are often in conflict and antagonism. 
It was so with Jehoiada. Had he been a selfish man, — 
guided (as the world too often is) by policy, and sacrificing 
all that is sacred to base and unworthy personal ambition, 
he was the very last who should have betrayed any anxiety 
to shield Joash from the general massacre. Though he him- 
self had no royal blood in his veins, yet (by marrying the 
sister of the former king) his own son Zechariah was (failing 
the children of Ahaziah) the heir-apparent to the throne of 
Judah. If, therefore, on principles of base worldly expe- 
diency, he had been careful to secrete any one from the 
vengeance of Athaliah, it would have been his own child 
rather than Joash. But this good and honoured man 
would spurn such sordid baseness. Though he had the 



160 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

strong temptation of the golden crown glittering on the 
brows of his own son, with a noble disinterestedness he 
takes with parental fondness the unprotected orphan and 
rival under his nurturing roof, and does all in his power to 
prevent a cruel tyrant stretching forth her hand against the 
Lord's anointed. 

Noble lesson here, too, in the midst of a world and an 
age of selfishness ! When we see so many grasping with 
unscrupulous avidity any tempting bribe ; — from avaricious 
monarchs grasping kingdoms, to avaricious and unscrupulous 
citizens in private life building their own reputation and 
fortune on the ruins of another — stooping to base artifice, 
godless "expediency," unprincipled policy, in compassing 
their ends ; — oh, it is refreshing to turn to these staunch 
examples in the olden days, where self-interest spurned to 
climb the coveted heights on the ruins of a man's life, or 
means, or character ; — willing, disinterestedly, to give way, 
although another rather than themselves be bettered, if the 
will and cause of God be promoted, — submitting to any 
amount of sacrifice for private and public good. " All seel- 
their own" is the too truthful motto of these degenerate 
times ; but the noblest feature in a man's character is abne- 
gation of self; — if his fellows can point to him and say, 
" That man is as much interested in the welfare of others as 
in his own/' 

If we have dwelt mainly on the one public act of Jehoiada, 
it is not to the exclusion of the more strictly religious traits 
of his character and history ; for it is evident from the sacred 
narrative, that what embalmed him most in the memories of 
Israel — what summoned forth the warmest tears on that day 



A LONG DAY AND LATE SUNSET. 1G1 

of his funeral — was his great work in connexion with the 
repairing of the house of the Lord. His sacred influence 
had happily been brought to bear upon the young king. 
" Go out" was the command of Joash to the Levites — " Go 
out unto the cities of Juclah, and gather of all Israel money 
to repair the house of your God from year to year, and see 
that ye hasten the matter. And the king and Jehoiada 
gave it to such as did the work of the service of the house of 
the Lord, and hired masons and carpenters to repair the 
house of the Lord, and also such as wrought iron and brass 
to mend the house of the Lord. So the workmen wrought, 
and the work was perfected by them, and they set the house 
of God in his state, and strengthened it." * Happy for a 
nation, happy for a church, when they have in their rulers, 
civil and ecclesiastical, this combination of political sagacity 
and manly piety ; — unflinching alike in their fidelity to 
the throne and the altar, " rendering to Csesar the things 
that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's : " 
— who, moreover, imbued with the great truth that it is 
"righteousness" alone which " exalteth a nation/' deem it the 
loftiest mission in which they can be embarked, to " lengthen 
Zion's cords and strengthen her stakes/' How many there 
are whose life-long ambition is posthumous fame ; — that, like 
Jehoiada, they may be " buried in the city among the kings/' 
and on storied urns or marble cenotaphs their names may be 
handed down to successive generations ! God's Great Ones 
have a truer and nobler immortality ; but if you would have 
the most enviable immortality earth can bestow, — if you 
would aspire to live in the memories and hearts of those that 

* 2 Chron. xsiv. 5, 12, 13. 
L 



162 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

come after you, — let the panegyric on the old priest of Israel 
be the coveted epitaph on your lowlier grave-stone, — it may 
stimulate others, as they read it, to follow your steps, — 
" He had done good in Iskael, both towards God and 
towards his house. 1 * 



X. 

jtastt 0it % ]Pflg(fte of (HHpI. 



* Bright clouds ! ye are gathering one by one, 
Ye are sweeping in pomp round the dying sun, 
With crimson banner, and golden pall, 
Like a host to their chieftain's funeral ; 
Perchance ye tread to that hallow'd spot 
With a muffled dirge, though we hear it not, 

" But methinks ye tower with a lordlier crest, 
And a gorgeous flush as he sinks to rest : 
Not thus in the day of his pride and wrath 
Did ye dare to press on his glorious path ; 
At his noontide glance ye have quaked with fear, 
And hasted to hide in your misty sphere. 

" Do you say he is dead ? You exult in vain, 
With your rainbow robe, and your swelling train ; 
He shall rise again with his strong bright ray, 
He shall reign in power when you fade away, 
When you darkly cower in your vapoury hall, 
Tintless, and naked, and noteless, all." 

— Sigournet. 

" Now Elisha was fallen sick of his sickness whereof he died. And Joash 
the king of Israel came down unto him, and wept over his face, and said, 
my father, my father ! the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof ! 
And Elisha said unto him, Take bow and arrows : and he took unto him 
bow and arrows. And he said to the king of Israel, Put thine hand upon 
the bow: and he put his hand upon it; and Elisha put his hands upon 
the king's hands. And he said, Open the window eastward : and he opened 



164* SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

it. Then Elisha said, Shoot • and he shot. And he said, The arrow o£ 
the Lord's deliverance, and the arrow of deliverance f 1 om Syria ; for thou 
shalt smite the Syrians in Aphek, till thou have consumed them. And he 
said, Take the arrows : and he took them. And he said unto the king of 
Israel, Smite upon the ground : and he smote thrice, and stayed. And 
the man of God was wroth with him, and said, Thou shouldest have 
smitten five or six times, then hadst chou smitten Syria till thou hadst 
consumed it : whereas now thou shalt smite Syria but thrice. And Elisha 
died, and they buried him. And tho bands of the Moabites invaded the 
land at the coming in of the year. And it came to pass, as they were 
burying a man, that, behold, they spied a band of men ; and they cast the 
man into the sepulchre of Elisha : and when the man was let down, and 
touched the bones of Elisha, he revived, and stood up on his feet,"-- % Kings 
&iii. 14-21. 



SUNSET ON THE HEIGHTS OF GILGAL. 

The quiet glory of this sunset corresponds with the antece- 
dent history. "We love to seat ourselves on the brow of 
Gilgal, and watch its disc slowly disappearing over the neigh- 
bouring hills. 

Elisha stands out, in sacred story, in striking contrast to 
his great predecessor, Elijah. The prophet of Horeb had 
a reflection of his own character in the earthquake, the 
tempest, and the fire seen from his mountain-cave. He on 
whom his mantle fell, and whose life-close we are now to 
consider, had his type and symbol in " the still small voice " 
that succeeded. The one was the Peter, the other the John 
of the prophetic period. The one, bold, vehement, daring — 
coming forth with shaggy hair and leathern girdle from the 
savage glens of Northern Gilead, where he had been " meetly 
nursed" for his life of romantic exploits ; — with a mind subject 
to strong impulses, as easily prostrated as elated. The other, 
dignified, yet calm, — faithful and uncompromising, yet loving 
and tender, — the Barnabas of the Old Testament, (" the son of 
consolation,") amid the stricken homes of Israel. The one is 
like a meteor blazing through the firmament — startling us 
with the suddenness of his apparitions, from the moment he 
appears on the stage of sacred history confronting guilty 
Ahab, till, with equal suddenness and equal splendour, he is 
borne majestically to heaven in a chariot of fire. The other 



166 SUNSETS ON THE HEBKEYf MOUNTAINS. 

has less of this fitful lustre. Yet in conjunction with milder 
attributes lie has the majesty, too, of the sun "going forth 
as a bridegroom from his chamber, and rejoicing as a strong 
man to run his race!" In one word, Elisha was, in the 
strictest sense, a great and a good man ; and in his goodness 
consisted his greatness. His life is a living sermon. He 
was to be found in season and out of season, — in every 
occasion of need. Never do we find him lacking in moral 
courage. Wherever his word and presence were required to 
rebuke sin, this righteous man was "bold as a lion \" He 
seems to grudge no time, no labour, if only his great work be 
advanced. We find him in royal palaces, in martial camps, 
in weeping households. At one time, hurling the awful 
malediction over impenitence and wrong-doing ; at another, 
mingling his tears over " the loved and lost," and then his 
songs of joy over the lost, raised to be loved again. Poor and 
unostentatious in dress, in mien, in dwelling, he had been again 
and again the saviour of his country, and exercised what was 
equivalent to regal sway in court and city, — by the throne 
and by the altar. He had fostered, with loving heart, the 
schools of the prophets, — training, with holy fidelity, those on 
whom the mantle of his office and example was afterwards to 
fall. Never was there greater need of such a man than at this 
crisis of Israel's history. Their sensual idolatries, the deep 
moral and spiritual degradation of the whole body politic, 
cried loudly for one who would mingle words of love and 
wisdom with those of stern rebuke, and who, by the exer- 
cise of those miraculous powers which were peculiarly con- 
ferred upon him, would bring the people back from their 
gross materialism to the spiritual worship and national 
recognition of their fathers' God. 



SUNSET ON THE HEIGHTS OF GILGAL. 167 

But the time lias come when lie, too, must pay the great 
debt of nature. Long ere he had attained the mature age 
at which he died, the old man seems to have retired into 
comparative obscurity. His brilliant public work was over ; 
and, ere he passed to his rest and his crown, God saw meet 
to lay him on a couch of sickness in some lonely, unknown 
dwelling in Israel. It is around that couch we are now 
summoned. As the sands in his life-glass are slowly falling, 
grain by grain, come and let us gather a few of the solemn 
truths which the scene presents. 

I. We watch a royal visitor entering the obscure abode of 
Elisha. It is no other than the king of Israel. And from 
what we can gather from the brief notices of his history, 
the remarkable thing about Joash's visit is, that he must 
have had little sympathy, at all events, with the high-toned 
and elevated piety of the man of God. With many fair traits 
of character — intervals of sincere and true devotion — he 
was still following not a few of the guilty ways of " Jeroboam 
the son of Nebat, who made Israel to sin." For this he had, 
doubtless, been often and again rebuked by the faithful admo- 
nitions of the prophet, — he had quailed under his piercing 
eye, — and evaded, whenever he could, that presence of exalted 
sanctity. We never hear, during all the sixteen years he 
had already reigned, of his once coming to him before on a 
personal visit. But now, when he hears that the aged Seer's 
end is approaching, he hastens to do homage to the greatness 
and goodness that are so soon to leave behind them an irrepa- 
rable blank ! Nay, more than this — it is no mere courteous 
visit. It is not the patronising stoop of supercilious royalty 
coming to parade vain etiquette and adulation when the 



168 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

time for just recognition of service is past. But he comes as 
the representative mourner of a whole nation. He comes to 
pour out one of the noblest panegyrics ever pronounced over 
departing or departed worth. It was uttered from a burst- 
ing heart, and through eyes moist with weeping. 

Mark the picture. (We can imagine no nobler subject for 
inspired painting.) An old man on the threshold of a cen- 
tury, shrivelled and wasted by long sickness, with pale lip 
and feeble hand, lies stretched on the couch from which he 
is never to rise. His monarch stands by, and stoops over 
him, bathed in a flood of impassioned tears. We read, " He 
wept over his face;" and then broke silence through his 
choked utterance with the words, " My father, my father ! 
the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof! " 

What meant he by this? In that moment of profound 
emotion, the king saw in that waning eye — that ebbing 
life-pulse — that there was about to pass away " a power 
mightier than all the armies of Israel/'' "■ I lose," he cries, 
'•' in thee, my best chariots and horsemen ; with the decay of 
these mortal walls of thy frail body, I forfeit my best bul- 
warks, — my nation's tower of strength. I can recruit my 
wasted ranks, decimated by famine and pestilence and by the 
cruel fortunes of war ; but I cannot reanimate or recall thy 
saintly prayers — thy godly counsels — thy commanding influ- 
ence — thy unsullied example, and untainted life. Thy death 
will be, as if, by one fearful sweep — one cruel blow — m} 
chariots and horsemen were cast into the depths of the sea, 
— as if the beauty of Israel was slain in the high places. 
" Howl, fir-tree, for the cedar has fallen !" 

We have here an example of the homage (often tardily 



SUNSET ON THE HEIGHTS OF GILGAL. 169 

extorted) paid by men of the world to true piety and prin- 
ciple, pure devotion, consistent character, unblemished life. 
Nay more, it is the assertion by kingly lips of a great truth, 
from which we may well, in these days, gather comfort and 
instruction ; — that there are walls and bulwarks constituting 
a nation's strength, nobler than material strongholds and vast 
armaments ; — that the great and the good — men of prayer, 
and men of faith, and men of God — are a nation's noblest 
defenders, the truest guardians of her liberties, the best : 
rampart of defence around her hearths and homes ! Let us 
not be guilty of the impiety of measuring a nation's might, 
in modern times, by her arsenals and dockyards, the stores 
of her ammunition, and the calibre of her cannon. Thanks 
be to God, we have all these to boast of too ; — and brave souls, 
ready to leap, like the sword from its scabbard, to do gallant 
defence for all that is dear in the hour of peril ! But it is 
matter of thankfulness that Britain has more than these. 
She has more than the bravery which had its representative 
in the furious courage of another contemporary of Elisha, and 
one divinely appointed to co-operate with him ; — she has 
more than her " Sons of Nimshi" with horses' hoofs spurn- 
ing the plain as they rush on to battle. She has her Elishas 
too ; — noble, lofty souls, — bold in the maintenance of Chris- 
tian principle ; — ay, men in her high places, who count not 
their coronets tarnished because they love their Saviour ; and J 
who are not ashamed to avow their allegiance to the Prince 
of the kings of the earth. Yes, we may be proud to point 
to the annals of our country's old martial glory ; to listen to 
the roll of her conquering drum by land, — the voice of her 
thunder by sea, challenging the sovereignty of the ocean ; — 



*70 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

jhe old indomitable lion making its proud leap still, against 
fearful odds, as on the stern battle-fields of other days. But 
we own a nobler title to supremacy ; — one which preserves 
jur ark in the midst of European storms. " We have not 
only a strong city " — (a strong nation) — but " Salvation is 
appointed for walls and for bulwarks/' While the states- 
manship that in some momentous crisis wielded the nation's 
destiny is lauded, and extolled ; — while brilliant homage is 
awarded to the political sagacity which steered the vessel 
amid conflicting storms ; — while every tongue is justly elo- 
quent in the praises of the valiant squadrons that mounted 
breach after breach to victory ; — while science wins new 
laurels in girdling our shores with impregnable bulwarks, 
frowning defiance on every invader ; — we may do well also to 
ask Israel's king to read to us the grand philosophy of a 
nation's greatness, — we may hear his voice echoing in every 
chamber where a Christian dies, — <e My father, my father ! 
the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof!" 

But let us pass to a strange episode in the story of Elisha's 
deathbed. 

The old prophet has all the love of his country, as well as 
of his God, still unquenched in his bosom. And with the 
grand heroism of a dying patriot, he gives a significant token 
and assurance of success over their hereditary foe, to the king 
and nation to whom he is so soon to bid adieu for ever. 

He tells the young monarch to take his bow and quiver, — 
and opening the eastern window of the sick-chamber, to 
shoot an arrow in the direction of Aphek. This was a 
frontier-town, near the eastern shores of the Lake of Galilee, 



SUNSET ON THE HEIGHTS OF GILGAL. 171 

where the Syrian army were then encamped. Before, how- 
ever, the arrow is discharged, the prophet puts his withered 
hands over the hand of the king, aiding him in drawing the 
bow ; forth flies the feathered weapon in the direction of the 
foes of Israel, the aged Seer adding — " The arrow of the 
Lord's deliverance, and the arrow of deliverance from 
Syria; for thou shalt smite the Syrians in Aphek. till thou 
have consumed them." 

Nor was this all. After the flight of the arrow, Elisha 
told him to take the remaining contents of the quiver, and 
" smite the ground with them." This Joash did three times 
only. The prophet, displeased at his want of faith, tells him 
that, instead of a series of victories ending in complete 
triumph, the armies of Israel should only have three success- 
ful battles with their old adversary. It seemed to have been 
thft nld man's expiring act. The accounts of his death and 
sepulture immediately follow. 

There are many instructive reflections suggested by this 
incident. 

The prophet seeks to leave the world, impressing on his 
sovereign and his people the great truth, that the hand of the 
Lord can alone give deliverance from any enemy. He was 
now as God's vicegerent, speaking and acting in the name of 
the God he served. When he laid his wrinkled hands over 
those of Joash, it was to proclaim by an expressive symbol, 
" If that arrow prove an arrow of deliverance, it is because 
the Lord's hand and might have been with the bowmen. If 
the Syrians be routed, as routed they shall be, give Him all 
the glory. (In every military project and campaign, look to 
Him for direction and victory.'^) 



172 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

The king had just spoken, in the ears of the prophet, of the 
"chariots and the horsemen of Israel." ElishaY reply was in 
the spirit, at least, of another noble Hebrew. * Some trust 
in chariots and some in horses," but remember ye " the 
name of the Lord your God" "Blessed be the Lord, who 
teacheth my hands to ivar and my fingers to fight."* 

But we cannot think that in this dying, symbolic act, 
there were no spiritual lessons for the Church of God and 
for every believer in every age. 

Mightier adversaries than the Syrians are around us ; — 
invisible spiritual enemies, " whose name is Legion, for they 
are many." God would impress upon us, alike in our spi- 
ritual conflicts and spiritual advancements, our dependence 
on Him; — that if we ever reach the heavenly inheritance, 
this will be our confession on our every retrospect of the 
earthly battle-field : — " We got not possession of the land by 
our own sword, neither did our own arm save us. But 
thy right hand and thine arm, and the light of thy coun- 
tenance, because thou hadst a favour unto us" It is the 
good hand of our God being upon us — His hands "over- 
laying" ours — that gives power and direction to every arrow, 
whether of conviction, or deliverance, or comfort. " Not unto 
us, not unto us, but unto Thy name we woidd give glory" 
"By the grace of God we are what we are!' But while 
all this is true, He would at the same time teach us here 
a great counterpart truth, viz., that He works by means. 
He tells us to "take bow and arrow." What are these? 
It is the bow of faith and the arrow of prayer! and the 
direction to us, as to Joash, is "shoot" Prayer is the arrow 
* Ps. xx. 7, cxliv. 1. 



SUNSET ON THE HEIGHTS OP GILGAL. 173 

of deliverance. Christ himself has strung it, He has, like 
Elisha, put his hand on ours, declaring, "Believe, only believe." 
"All thinas are possible to him that believeth." " Whatso- 
ever ye shall ash the Father in my name he will give it you." 
Alas ! that, like Joash, we should " limit the Holy One of 
Israel/' that we should get " weary of smiting," and thus cheat 
ourselves of the promised blessing. We do not empty our 
quivers. We "smite the ground" with a feeble, irresolute 
hand. We ask with the half-hearted faith of those who 
think that the Lord's hand is "shortened that it cannot 
save." We think we do enough when we have "smitten 
thrice and then stayed." 

As with Israel's king, unbelief is the guilty cause of all 
these religious failures and declensions,- — these shortcomings 
and defects. When our enemies smite us and vanquish us, 
let us blame ourselves — not Him, whom we have displeased 
by our want of faith. We refuse to take God at His word. 
We controvert and gainsay His commands by our carnal 
reasonings. " What " (that proud young monarch might say 
to himself) — " what the need of these silly repetitions ; — ■ 
dashing these arrows on the clay floor of this dwelling ? I 
understand the significancy of the arrow of deliverance which 
sped a little ago from the eastward window, but this ' smiting 
on the ground ' is a meaningless act. I shall (to please the 
old Seer) go the length of casting three arrows on the floor, 
but I shall submit to no more." 

What a picture of ourselves ! We stop short in the means 
of gaining spiritual conquests, just when a little more faith, 
prayer, courage, self-sacrifice, trust in God, might have won 
the day, and given us victory. It is the case with thousands 



174 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

on thousands, that they go a certain length in well-doing, 
and then they cease. They are content with languid, fitful 
efforts. They lop off a few branches and leave the old root 
to throw out fresh shoots. They stop half way up " the Hill 
Difficulty." They go half way through the torrent, man- 
fully breasting and buffeting it, and then sink. Their 
religion is not the work of men in earnest. After a few 
victories over master sins, a few dominant lusts subdued, 
they leave unvanquished corruptions to levy a new army 
on the side of evil. The tide washes out all their good 
resolutions, and " the last state of that man is worse than 
the first." Oh that we knew, and realised, and acted out, 
the power of believing prayer and persevering prayer ; — that 
great truth which Christ inculcated and illustrated by no less 
than two parables, that " men ought always to pray and not 
to faint."* 

It must be believing prayer. " I will direct my prayer to 
thee," says David, " and will look up.'' ■(" And so it is with 
the true Christian. Prayer with him is not an empty form. 
"He knows he will have the petitions desired of God." He 
" directs " his supplication, and " looks up " for the descent 
of the promised blessing, saying, "Do as thou hast said." \ 

It must also be persevering prayer. Let us not cease to 
smite the ground with Heaven's own winged arrows, when 
Christ says, "Smite on." Paul, in his Christian-armoury- 
chapter, in naming this " arrow of deliverance," most specially 
reminds us never to desist till our quiver be exhausted, — ■ 
" Praying always" says he, " with all prayer and supplica- 
tion in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all per sever- 

* Luke ami?. 1. f Pa. v. 3. X 1 Chron. xvii. 23. 



SUNSET ON THE HEIGHTS OF GILGAL. 175 

ance and supplication for all saints."* Beware of distrusting 
and dishonouring God, — becoming languid and indifferent, — 
" the hands hanging down and the knees feeble ; " and that, 
too, in the best period of your lives, when you have health 
and strength to serve Him ; — keeping back " the arrows of 
the mighty " when your hand is best able to grasp the bow. 
If you neglect to draw it now, when your arm is strong, and 
God is guiding you, what will you do when the arm is feeble, 
— " when the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong 
men bow themselves ? " — " If thou hast run with the footmen, 
and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou contend 
with horses? And if in the land of peace, wherein thou 
trustedst, they ivearied thee, then how wilt thou do in the 
swelling of Jordan ? " f 

One other point still remains — the lessons from the sick- 
bed of the prophet. 

The comparison has often and again been suggested (and 
the contrast is a striking one) between the departure of 
Elisha and that of Elijah. Both are characters truly great ; 
each possessing their peculiar lineaments of greatness and 
grandeur. But while Elijah is unquestionably the more 
brilliant and dazzling of the two. encircled with a halo of 
moral chivalry, which his successor does not, at least to the 
same extent, share, we think (as we have already indicated) 
that the purer, godlier life belonged to Elisha. 

Why then so startling a difference in the manner in which 
they bade adieu to the earth they had gladdened with their 
presence? Why was there given to Elijah the brilliant 
equipage, "the chariot of fire and the horses oi fire?'' 

* Eph. vi. IS. + Jer. xii. 5. 



176 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

Why to him give immunity from pain and suffering, from 
the langour and decay of sinking nature, the decrepitude of 
age, the pangs of a sick-bed? why spare him all these, 
and, in the glory of his manhood, when the laurels were 
green on his brow, and his eye undimmed, send him ma- 
jestically up to heaven on the wings of the whirlwind ; 
while the saintlier man — the man of more even walk — 
more consistent life and rarer goodness, is suffered to waste 
away by sickness in the secluded home of his old age? 
From the peculiar expression, " Now Elisha was fallen sick 
otihe sickness whereof he died," we are led to conjecture that 
his was no brief illness ; — but that the aged prophet may 
rather have been " made to possess months of vanity, and 
wearisome nights were appointed him, full of tossings to and 
fro unto the dawning of the day." Many require such dis- 
cipline and chastisement, — but he needed, apparently, no 
such polishing for his crown, no such furnace to refine 
him ; he needed to give no further testimony (for his life 
was already an eloquent evidence) that " he pleased God." 
Why, then, we again ask, was it not with him as with Elijah ? 
Why did not the fiery coursers come down to his cottage 
home too at Gilgal, and save him these long days of weak- 
ness and suffering ? 

It might be enough for us to answer, " The Lord willed it 
so ! " But w r e generally find that God has a reason for all He 
does — that He acts on great principles. There is nothing 
capricious in His dealings — nothing accidental even in His 
appointments regarding a sick-bed. 

And we may the more readily speak of this contrast be- 
tween the departures of the two great prophets of their age. 



SUNSET ON THE HEIGHTS OF GILGAL. 177 

because it is a contrast constantly occurring still in the 
diverse experiences of believers. Some are surrounded with 
a halo of brightness to the last ;— others are laid low in the 
midst of public usefulness — chained, for years on years, to. a 
couch of languishing — the dim lamp of life flickering long in 
its socket, till the flame of wasted nature expires. 

Let us learn, from the contrasted cases of Elijah and 
Eli sha, that God adapts His dealings to the different char- 
acters of His people. He knows exactly what they can 
best bear. He knows how they can best glorify Him. "He 
stays his rough wind in the day of his east wind." He 
" tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." Elijah, that spirit of 
the storm- — bold, manly, full of zeal for his God and his 
nation ; — yet by natural temperament, rash, impulsive — and 
if severely tried, fretful and irritable ; — with a hero-heart — 
one day up amid the frantic crowd on Mount Carmel— the 
next hiding amid the clefts of the Sinai desert, away from 
life and its great mission ; — -though God's grace, indeed, 
could have braced him up for anything, yet (judging on 
ordinary grounds) he would not have been well fitted to 
stand the wasting ordeal of a prolonged sickness. He glori- 
fied his God too, — but it was, as with David's lion-like men 
of a former age, by brilliant but fitful feats of moral cham- 
pionship. Act after act of his life was too often like wave 
upon wave dashing proudly in succession on the rock, but 
retreating again to hide the chafed foam in the porous sands. 
We can hardly picture to ourselves this Gilead chief — the 
Bedouin of his age — laid for years on years in some lone 
cottage of Israel — the fire of his noble spirit burning slowly 
out. It would have been like Samson chafing in his dun- 

M 



178 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

geon, but unable, ^ke Samson, by the Divine sanction and by 
a brilliant deed, to terminate his humiliation. And therefore 
God, (knowing the constitutional temperament of His favoured 
and devoted servant) prepares for him rather the glorious 
translation. He uses him in another way, to give testimony 
to the doctrine of the resurrection; — and without one mo 
ment's pang — one day's experience of suffering or sick- 
ness — the eddying whirlwind and the fiery coursers bear 
him away as in a car of victory to the gates of glory ! 

Not so Elisha. The Lord who trieth all hearts, knows 
that He can get another revenue of glory from this holy man, 
in addition to what he had already rendered, in his public 
character, during the day of health and manly vigour. He 
will not carry him off while he is yet in his prime ; — He 
allows the lengthening shadows of age to creep upon him ; — 
He whitens his brow with the snows of fourscore winters ; — 
He takes him to a lowly home of obscurity, there lays him 
on a sick-bed — and He would have him preach to all Israel, 
and to us too, by these days of passive endurance and suffer- 
ing, as well as by his former life of stern work and active 
and laborious duty. 

Let no one say that a man is unable to serve and glorify 
his God in a home of obscurity or on a couch of prolonged 
and hopeless distress. We go to Elisha's sick-chamber 
for the refutation. True — we are told little (we are told 
nothing) as to how he bore his trouble. There is no positive 
record of his patience and endurance, his calm and childlike 
submission in this season of illness. But we gather, at all 
events, that he lived through his sickness as he had lived 
through his 'health, — a man of God — a man of faith, — with a 



SUNSET ON THE HEIGHTS OP GILGAL. 179 

soul glowing with high patriotism, which the pangs of a 
death-couch could not quench ! If sickness and trouble had 
soured and irritated him, — he would have turned his back 
;yhen he heard these royal footsteps — he would have mocked 
aid scorned these royal tears. Thinking nothing but of 
liimseif, and thinking hardly of his God, he would have said, 
in the peevish mood of Elijah, "It is enough; take away 
my life ! " How different ! Grand it is to see this feeble, 
decrepit Sage, racked with the pains of approaching death, 
raising himself up to deliver, with patriot lip, a message of 
peace to Israel. Like a great dying hero of our own, he 
would not compose his head on its last pillow, till " victory" 
was borne to his ears amid the shout and shell of battle. 

Thus, then, we deduce the lesson, that God will adapt His 
dealings to our varied temperaments and capacities of en- 
durance. He suits the soldier to the place, and the place to 
the soldier. He will send us no temptation or trial, which 
He knows we are unable to bear. Look at the deaths which 
are constantly occurring around us — some swept away like 
Elijah, suddenly in a moment, " as a dream when one 
awaketh ; " — others, in the delirium of fever, saving them 
mercifully the bondage-fear of dissolution ; and with a glori- 
ous surprise opening their eyes in heaven. To others, He 
appoints the slow process of wasting and decay — trans- 
figured on the Mount of Suffering before being glorified — 
the light of heavenly peace shining through the chinks of 
their " earthly tabernacle " before it is finally " dissolved ! " 
But all is His appointment. It is not for us to question, in 
these varied experiences, — " Where is the Lord God of Eli- 
jah ? " " Where is the. Lord God of ElishaV 



180 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

We may learn more than this— whether, in the case of 
ourselves, when visited with future, unforeseen, protracted 
sickness, or in that of some near and dear to us, who may now 
be laid on couches of anguish and suffering;. Let Us neyer 
think that we or they are useless to the world ; — cast as 
weeds and wrack on the desert shore, — unable to glorify our 
God. 

Nay, far from it. There is no grander pulpit than a sick- 
bed ; — no more impressive preacher than that weak and languid 
sufferer who has for years on years been familiar with no 
more cheerful vision than the obscured light creeping through 
the shaded windows, no sound but the suppressed footfall or 
whisper of affection. Ah, it is often easier to be an Elijah 
than an Elisha. It is often easier to mount the steeps of 
Carmel, to pronounce maledictions on transgressors, and 
make the river Kishon run with blood ; — to confront an 
Ahab, and dare a royal frown, than, lying low under the 
Divine hand, with meek, gentle, kind, loving spirit, to say, 
" It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good." * And 
be assured, God does not (like man) measure character or 
deeds by their greatness and lustre. When man's eye is 
on some brilliant action ; — or some display of boasted munifi- 
cence, — His may be on the unselfish kindness, the unosten- 
tatious deed of lowly beneficence, the humble trust of the 
widow in the widow's God ; — the pining sufferer, amid long 
years of anguish, giving forth no utterance but one — "Even 
so, Father, for so it seems good in Thy sight. ,} 

And was Elisha's prolonged life of weakness, — was his 
sick-bed unproductive of glory to the God he served, and of 
* 1 Sam. iii. 18. 



SUNSET ON THE HEIGHTS OP GILGAL. 18 1 

good to the people he loved? Go! (after that noble old 
hero-prophet is sleeping in his grave) — go north amid the 
glens of Gilead, where the army of Israel is reposing after a 
day's bloody conflict with Syria, and hear how they connect 
the last act of that palsied arm with the victory they had 
achieved ! The Syrians have fled from Aphek, and Israel is 
triumphant. But it was the old prophet's symbolic " arrow " 
which that day inspired every bowman and spearman with 
indomitable valour. The voice of the dead has led them on 
to victory ! Tears may well flow afresh down the cheeks of 
Joash as he sees the tide of conflict setting in his favour. 
He may well turn the old panegyric into a battle-cry, and 
shout over the prophet's ashes, as he had done over his 
death-pillow, — "My father! my father ! the chariot of Israel, 
and the horsemen thereof!" 

God, moreover, would not suffer His servant, who had 
glorified Him so faithfully in his life and in his death — He 
would not suffer him to pass to his sepulchre without a fresh 
attestation to the words, " Them that honour me I will 
honour." The historical narrative further narrates, how a 
dead body, that was cast into the prophet's tomb to secrete it 
from a band of Moab marauders or bandits, on touching the 
bones *of the buried Seer, started into life. It was an excep- 
tion to the great truth, " The dead praise not the Lord, 
neither any that go down into silence!' Here was one who 
did praise Him ; praised Him in life, and praised Him after 
he descended into the tomb. 

Come, and learn from all this, not only that you can honour 
God in old age. in sickness, in suffering, in obscurity, ay, in 
the v°iy valley of death, but (by an expressive allegory-^-* 



182 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

miraculous figure in the vivifying of this body by contact 
with the bones of Elisha) you are taught that your influ- 
ence can survive dissolution, — that there may be a power in 
the holy memories of your life and example, which may 
kindle new aspirations in others when your own tongues are 
silenced ! Ah ! it is a mighty theme this of posthumous 
influence. While you gather round the sick-bed of Elijah, 
and learn its lessons, gather around his grave. See that 
dead corpse touching his bones, and learn the lessons it, too, 
conveys. Shall our graves and sepulchres wake up some 
dormant fount of life ? Shall the arrow of deliverance which 
speeds from our living hand, enter into some heart when 
the hand that sped it is mouldering in the tomb ? If we, 
when dead, are thus to speak, remember, our speech will 
be the echoes of the present. What we shall say then, is 
what we are now! Stupendous thought ! glorious privilege! 
We envy not Elijah his burnished chariot- wheels and ma- 
jestic whirlwind. We will cheerfully, if God see meet, lie 
down with Elisha in his humble couch and lowly sepulchre, 
— if we are better able thereby to quicken by our example, 
and animate by our faith. 

Spirit of God ! breathe upon the dry bones that they may 
live ! If now, the memories of the departed come hovering 
over us, — their virtues in living, their submission in trial, 
their peace in dying, — let us touch their ashes ; — let the 
dead speak ; — let them meet in the affirmative the challenge 
of the Psalmist, — "Shall the dust praise thee? shall it declare 
thy truth?" 



XI. 

% <§ark Jag aitir a Jhigjrf Smtaet. 



" How fair lias the day been, how bright was the sun, 
How lovely and joyful the course that he run ! 
Though he rose in a mist, when his race he begun, 

And there follow'd some droppings of rain : 
But now as the traveller comes to the west, 
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best, — 
He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest, 
And foretells a bright rising again. 

u And such the believer ! his course he begins, 
Like the sun in a mist, when he mourns for his sins, 
And melts into tears ; then he breaks out and shines, 

And travels his heavenly way : 
But when he comes nearer to finish his race, 
Like a bright setting sun, he looks richer in grace, 
And gives a sure hope, at the end of his days, 
Of rising in brighter array." 

— Isaac "Watts. 

" Now the rest of the acts of Manasseh, and all that he did, and his sin 
that he sinned, are they not written in the book of the Chronicles of the 
kings of Judah ? And Manasseh slept with his fathers, and was buried in 
the garden of his own house, in the garden of Uzza : and Amon Ids. sop 
reigned in his stead." — 2 Kings xxi. 17, 18. 

2 Chron. xxxiii. 1-21, 



A DARK BAY AND A BEIGHT SUNSET. 

Here is an unostentatious, an unhonoured, an unepitaphed 
grave ! Though one of the kings of Judah, Manasseh is 
laid, not in pomp and splendour, amid the dust of his 
ancestors, but in a private tomb, in the garden of his Jeru- 
salem palace. 

Striking is the contrast between these obsequies of Ma- 
nasseh and those of his royal father Hezekiah. The funeral 
cortege and burial of the latter was one of unprecedented 
splendour. " They buried him," we read, " in the chief est of 
the sepulchres of the sons of David : and all Judah and the 
inhabitants of Jerusalem did him honour at his death." * 
But however brief be the chronicle of Manasseh's departure 
and funeral, however lowly or unregal the mausoleum or 
cenotaph reared over his ashes, he is himself a wondrous 
" monument,"— a monument of Divine grace and mercy and 
forgiveness. As we gather around his tomb, let us ponder 
the spiritual epitaph for ourselves, which many have read 
through tears of guilt and despair, thanking God and taking 
courage, — " The chief of sinners, BUT I obtained mercy ! " 

We have to trace, in his case, as described in the motto- 
lines of the Christian poet, a " sunrise " of promise, soon 
obscured with clouds of guilt and crime. These clouds 
burst in floods of penitence and sorrow. A meridian of 
sudden brilliancy succeeds. The sky clears, and the orb of 

* 1 Chron. xxxil 33 



186 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

a chequered life sets cloudless and serene on the hills of 
Judah. Standing by his grave, under the shadow of Zion, 
let us take a retrospective view of his strange history. He 
is the prodigal son of Old Testament story. We have the 
departure from the hallowed parental home ; the life of 
alienation, misery, and sin, and his final restoration and re- 
turn. In other words, let us consider, in their order, these 
three points — Manasseh's sin ; his conversion ; and his new 
life. 

I. His career of sin was a peculiarly sad one ; and all the 
more so, when we reflect that his infancy and boyhood were 
nurtured under the training of the best and holiest of fathers. 
Hezekiah, when he received the respite from sickness and 
expected death, was divinely apprised that fifteen additional 
years would be added to his life ; and it was three years sub- 
sequent to this, that Manasseh was born. With the precise 
knowledge which the good king of Judah thus possessed as 
to the assigned limit of existence, (a knowledge vouchsafed 
indeed to none else,) and knowing, moreover, how suscep- 
tible youth is of lasting impressions, we may well imagine, as 
year by year drew nigh when the crown would devolve on the 
head of his young boy, how faithfully he would employ the 
brief allotted period in training him for his great duties ; 
infefting him in that noblest of inheritances, a father's piety 
and devout example. How zealously would he echo the 
dying exhortation and benediction of his great progenitor, 
" And thou, my son, know thou the God of thy father, and 
seme him with a perfect heart, and with a willing mind : 
■for the Lord searcheth all hearts, and understandeth all 



A DARK DAY AND A BRIGHT SUNSET. 187 

the imaginations of the thoughts: if thou seek him, he will 
be found of thee ; but if thou forsake him, he will cast thee 
off for ever."* Above all, how would Hezekiah (man of 
special prayer as he was) baptize that child's infancy and 
youth with these burning devotions, — these earnest petitions, 
which, mightier than all his armies, had laid the proud 
chivalry of Sennacherib low in the dust. 

But ah ! we are too truthfully, too painfully reminded, in 
the case of Manasseh, that grace is not hereditary ; that piety, 
despite of the most devout and religious training, is not 
always transmitted from sire to son. To take an older 
illustration ; Adam, with all the recollections fresh on his 
memory of Eden lost, the galling bitterness of forfeited bliss, 
would doubtless oft and again rehearse in the ears of his 
children the dark story of transgression. He would paint 
to them, as he alone of all the human race could do, the 
unsullied beauties of holiness, in order to scare them from 
that accursed thing which had entailed upon himself so 
terrible a ruin! Yet what was his success? What effect 
had these' blinding tears of penitence and remorse, shed be- 
fore his children at the very gates of the lost paradise ? His 
own first-born, despite of all, turned out a murderer and a 
vagabond. And here, in a later age, we have another child 
of prayers and tears, scarce mounting the throne still fra- 
grant with parental piety, ere he insults a parent's ashes, 
tramples on his counsels, mocks his tears, and becomes a 
desperado in guilt. Altars to Baalim and Ashtaroth were 
erected within the Temple's sacred enclosures. The groves 
in tli o valley of Jehoshaphat and on the slopes of the Mount 

* 1 Chron. xxviii. 9. 



188 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOTJNTAIN& 

of Olives were polluted with defiled altars, on which incense 
rose to the host of heaven. Deep down in the valley of 
Hinnorn, behind his palace, he caused his own son to pass 
through the fire, dedicating him a votary to bloodthirsty 
Moloch. With servile credulity, while he rejected the God 
of his fathers, he listened to lying oracles, and did homage 
to those who pretended intercourse with familiar spirits. 
Proud, passionate, overbearing, he became the persecutor and 
fanatic of his day. He poured out the blood of Jerusalem 
like water. Innocent lives were sacrificed. Those who loved 
the God and the religion of their fathers better than exist- 
ence, were given over to massacre. Cruelty and torture were 
added to death ; and tradition has it, that good old Isaiah 
was, at the savage command of the royal master whom he 
had too faithfully reproved, ordered to be "sawn asunder/' 
" He wrought much evil in the sight of the Lord, to provoke 
him to anger? * 

Nor was his guilt and ruin confined to himself. There is 
a terrible contagion in moral evil. We read that "He made 
Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem to sin, and to do 
worse than the heathen whom the Lord had destroyed before 
the children of Israel." -f* This tells the baneful influence 
his creed and example had on his subjects ;— that he sowed 
broadcast the seeds of his own wickedness among the thou- 
sands that owned his sway. 

It is an awful and solemn thought, continually recur 
ring to us in these Bible characters, that individual influ- 
ence assumes greater and more responsible proportions 
according to position or scale in society. The influence of 
* 2 Chron. xxxiii. 6. + 2 Chron. v. 9. 



A DARK DAY AND A BRIGHT SUNSET 189 

mind upon mind, and especially of those in exalted position, 
is truly gigantic, — the magnetic power of moral attraction or 
repulsion. It is often said that " the age makes the man." 
We believe that the converse is oftener true, that "the man 
makes the age." At the close of last century, in France and 
England, there was, in high places, a galaxy of great and 
commanding intellect. In France, the infidelity of a few, 
gave the first impulse to that wild wave of moral ruin which 
is chafing and eddying there to this day. Simultaneously in 
England, a number of influential minds appeared in promi- 
nent positions. They cast their talents and influence as 
trophies at the foot of the cross. But while they themselves 
are gone ; — long slumbering beneath the storied urns which a 
nation delighted to rear over their honoured ashes, — the seed 
wafted from these Trees of righteousness is this day springing 
up, in a forest of holy influences, to the praise and the glory 
of God. 

So it was with Hezekiah and Manasseh. In the case of the 
former, how marvellous the influence for good. How his 
own faith and piety were reflected in the hearts of his people. 
Look at that memorable instance to which we have already 
incidentally referred, when Sennacherib and his giant host 
came up against Jerusalem and the fenced cities of Judah. 
It was enough to strike panic and dismay into the boldest 
and bravest. But Hezekiah, undismayed, because he knew 
where his true strength lay, gathered together his soldiers 
and captains of war in the open street, and thus addressed 
them : — " Be strong and courageous ; he not afraid nor 
dismayed for the king of Assyria, nor for all the multitude 
that is with him : for there be more with us than with him< 



1 90 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

With him is an arm of flesh : but with us is the Lord our 
God, to help us, and to fight our battles. And/' it is added, 

"THE PEOPLE EESTED THEMSELVES UPON THE WOEDS OF 
HEZEKIAH, KING OF Judah." * 

See, on the other hand, in the case of Manasseh, the influ- 
ence for evil ; and that, too, long after he had mourned his 
sins, with breaking heart, and sought repentance carefully 
and with tears. Ay, it was an influence that survived his 
death, and bore bitter fruit after he himself was laid in his 
grave, when his own son perpetuated the idolatries of his 
father's earlier years ; for we read, " Amon, his son, sacrificed 
unto all the carved images which Manasseh his father had 
made, and served them." 

Let us never forget, ^ach of us, our solemn individual influ- 
ence ; an influence, too, not confined to place or time, but 
made up of words and deeds that transmit their endless 
echoes and images from age to age ; — giving us very life when 
we are dead — putting speech into our ashes. After the 
stone is sunk in the quiet lake, and lying still in the bottom, 
the waves generated by it, are being propelled in concentric 
circlets to the shore. They are chafing and rippling on the 
pebbles, when the disturbing cause has been for many 
minutes lost to sight, and buried in unconscious rest in the 
underlying bed of sand or mud. When we are sunk in our last 
long rest, lost from the sight and from the land of the living, — 
" gone down into silence/' — the ripple of influence, for good 
or for evil, will be heard murmuring on the shores of Time ! 

Note again, as an aggravation of Manasseh's sin, his re- 
peated and obdurate rejection of Divine warning. "The 

* 2 Chron. xxxii. 7, 8. 






A DARK DAY AND A BRIGHT SUNSET. 1 

Lord spake to Manasseh and his people, but they would 
not hearken." * 

He may have spoken to him as He does to us, in varied 
ways. He may have spoken to him by blessings. He may 
have sent His holy prophets and seers to expostulate with 
him. He may have knocked at the door of his seared 
conscience by the hallowed remembrances of a parent's 
piety, and a youth of rare spiritual privilege. But it was all 
in vain. And now He prepares the rod for severer punish- 
ment. He makes ready the bow, and puts the arrow on the 
string, to send the dart of deeper conviction home to his 
heart ! Let us here admire God's patience and forbearance 
with this guilty, daring, aggravated apostate. He might 
have cut him down in a moment; — He might have commis- 
sioned the lightning from heaven, or the pangs of some 
sudden disease, or the hand of righteous violence, to rid the 
nation of a villain. He might have sent him out, like Ahab, 
in his chariot to battle ; and some bowman might have drawn 
his arrow at a venture, and sent him reeling to a grave of 
despair ! But, no. Manasseh's name is in the Book of Life. 
He is one of God's chosen ones from before the foundation 
of the world ; that lost sheep must be brought home to the 
fold — that lost son must be brought to the paternal halls. 
"0 Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself, but in me is thy 
help found." \ 

And how does God deal with this self-destroyer ? What 
are the means He employs to humble his hard heart, and 
evoke from the wretched prodigal the cry, " / will arise, and 
go to my Father." He sends one of the generals of Esar- 

* 2 Chron. xxxiii. 10. f Hosea xiii. 9. 



192 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

haddon, the king of Assyria, against him and his fenced 
cities. The panic-stricken monarch presents a painful and 
humiliating contrast with the brave, bold heart of Hezekiah. 
The latter, when the same hosts were encamped against him 
at his very gates, led his men up the temple steps, singing, 
as they marched, his own sublime psalm, written for the 
occasion, — " God is our refuge and strength, a very present 
help in trouble: therefore will not we fear, though the 
earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried 
into the midst of the sea; though the tuaters thereof roar 
and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the 
swelling thereof" * His son, without, perhaps, the shadow 
of resistance, flees humiliated from his palace, and takes 
shelter in a brake or copse of thorns to elude the fury of the 
invader. But the commissioners of the Divine vengeance 
track out his guilty footsteps. He is loaded with chains, 
marched in ignominy to Babylon, and consigned there to a 
dungeon-vault. What a comment on the striking parallel 
made by the wise man — " The wicked flee when no man 
pursueth; but the righteous are bold as a lion f" *f 

II. Let us consider next, Manasseh's conversion; — the great 
turning point in his history. That dungeon became to him 
as the gate of heaven. His God, in a far higher than natural 
sense, "brought him out of darkness and the shadow of 
death. He broke the gates of brass, and cut the bars of iron 
in sunder." { 

We are called to note here the power of sanctified afflic- 
tion, 

* Ps. xlvi. 1-3. t Prov. xxviii. 1. £ Ps. cvii. 14-16. 



A DARK DAY AND A BEIGHT SUNSET. ] 93 

There is a twofold effect of trial and adversity. Sometimes 
it hardens the heart, leading a rebellious spirit to murmur 
and repine under the hand that chastens, and to say, like 
Gideon, " If the Lord be with us, why has all this befallen 
■us?" or to utter the worse infidel scoff, "Let me curse God, 
and die." But it has another effect, — the more blessed one, 
of humbling the rebellious spirit, bringing it to consider its 
ways, bewail its sins, and, instead of kicking against the 
pricks, to cry, " Lord, what wouldst thou have me to doV 

It was so with Manasseh. In that dungeon, God knocked 
at the door of his obdurate heart. The prison in Babylon 
became his spiritual birthplace. "Behold, he prayeih!" 
Knees that never bent before the God of his fathers, since he 
knelt a child by his parents' side, are now bent on that dun- 
geon floor ! 

We can imagine his exercise of soul. How, in that solemn, 
silent prison, the memory of years on years of past sin would 
rise up before him. His father's prayers and saintly counsels ; 
— the innocent blood he shed in Jerusalem ; — the terrible 
desecration of the holy place ; — the thousands he had involved, 
by his guilty example, in apostasy and ruin! Oh, as the 
rush of the past came on his lonely spirit, in the midnight 
hour, and the tears of burning remorse and shame rolled 
down his cheeks, would not this be his despairing thought — 
Can iniquities such as mine be pardoned ? Can there be for- 
giveness for such aggravated transgression — such unparal- 
leled, presumptuous sin? Who knows but. as the vision of 
the holy prophet he had slain rose up before him, adding a new 
scorpion sting to his agonised conscience — who knows but at 
the same moment, balm-words of comfort which that prophet 



194 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

had spoken may have fallen on his tossed soul like oil on the 
troubled waters. Did they not seem to speak home to him, 
as if the seer, in uttering them, had his own case of agonising 
despair specially in view — " Gome now, and let us reason 
together, saith the Lord : though your sins be as scarlet, they 
shall be white as snow ; though they be red like crimson, 
they shall be as wool."* " Scarlet and crimson/' indeed, his 
sins were. But he will take the God of his fathers, the God 
who had borne with him so long and so patiently, at His 
word — " When he was in affliction," we read, " he besought 
the Lord his God, and humbled himself greatly before the 
God of his fathers." f God heard the voice of his groaning. 
A light, brighter than the sun, broke through his prison bars. 
He could say with Jeremiah in his dungeon, " / called upon 
thy name, Lord, out of the low dungeon. Thou drevjest 
near in the day that I called upon thee. Thou saidst, Fear 
not! "\ Perhaps one of his bitterest and saddest thoughts 
may have been that same terrible influence, already alluded to, 
which he had exerted, in the past, over his subjects. This 
thought, in that moment of penitence and illumination, may 
have been uppermost in his spirit, and hardest to bear : — 
" Oh, that I could undo that guilty past ! Oh, that God would 
spare me to recover strength, and bring me back again to 
my palace and capital, that I might declare what He hath 
done for my soul, and seek to counteract these memories of 
blood -guiltiness and sin ! " God did hear him in this matter 
too ; for " he prayed unto him : and he was entreated of 
him, and heard his supplication, and brought him, again 
to Jerusalem, into his kingdom. Then Manasseh knew that 

* Isa. i. 18. + 2 Chron. zxxiii. 12. $ Lam. iii. 5& 



A DAHK DAY AND A BRIGHT bUNSET. 195 

the Lord he was God" * He left Jerusalem bound (soul and 
body) in fetters, after having closed on himself and his people 
the temple-gates, and quenched the sacred fire on his fathers' 
altars. Now he returns, the possessor of a nobler liberty 
than he ever before enjoyed, saying, " Open unto me the gates 
of righteousness ; then will I enter into them and praise 
the Lord!' " Lord, truly I am thy servant, and the son 
of thine handmaid: thou hast loosed my bonds. I will offer 
to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the 
name of the Lord . L will pay my vows unto the Lord now 
in the presence of all His people, in the courts of the Lords 
house, in the midst of thee, Jerusalem!' 'f 

Does not all this teach us, that God's grace can reach any 
heart, in any place ? The soul that contemned God in the 
consecrated ground of Canaan and Jerusalem, was reached in 
the heathen city, and in the military prison in heathen Baby- 
lon. Prayer, too, needs no sacred places, — no high altar, — no 
temple-court, — no fretted aisle or gorgeous cathedral to give it 
jiower and efficacy. Wherever there is an earnest heart, 
there is a present God. The prayer of Saul of Tarsus in 
heathen Damascus, or when tossed at midnight on the sea of 
Adria, or when immured in the dungeons of Philippi ; and the 
prayer of Manasseh, here narrated, in this dungeon-keep in 
Babylon — these, and similar penitential cries of earnest, 
broken spirits are heard, when many an imposing service and 
intoned liturgy dies away in empty echoes within " conse- 
crated walls ! " 

And mark what was the instrumental cause of Manasseh's 
conversion. What was it that drove him to his knees, and "led 
* 2 Ckron. xxxiii. 13. t Ps. cxvi. 16-19. 



196 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

him to know God as the hearer of prayer ? It was " when 
he was in affliction he besought the Lord his God, and hum- 
bled himself." It is Manasseh, " taken among the thorns, and 
bound with fetters/' who stands before us a new man ! 
t^ And is not affliction still God's own angel-messenger ? „«C 

Does not He still drive His own people amid the thorny 
brakes of severe trial,— /-hurl them from their thrones of pros- 
perity, and immure them " in darkness and in the deeps," — 
"Just that He may dash to pieces all their earthly confidences, 
break their hard, stubborn hearts, send them to their knees, 
and save their souls ? 

Ah, how many can tell, " But for these thorn -brakes, these 
fetters of trial, I would still have been an enemy to my God, 
plunging into greater and greater sin ? But I may well take 
these thorns and chains together, and weave them into a gar- 
land of triumph." It is said that the mother eagle inserts a 
thorn in the nest, to drive her young brood to the wing. God 
puts many a thorn in His people's downy nest of ease and 
worldly prosperity, to urge them to rise heavenward. If 
Manasseh had not known the thorns, the fetters, and the dark 
prison, in all human probability, he had lived and died an 
idolater. If Moab had not been " emptied from vessel to 
vessel M he would have " settled on his lees." If many of the 
redeemed, spoken of in Eevelation, had not " come out of 
great tribulation " they would not have been in their white 
robes " before the throne ! " 

III. Let us now proceed to consider Manasseh's new life. 
The grand test of the reality of conversion, is the regene- 
rated being. The tree is known by its fruits. The purified 



A DAEK DAY AND A BRIGHT SUNSET. 197 

fountain is known by its streams. With many, alas ! re- 
turning prosperity only hardens the heart, causing it to lapse 
into its old state of callous indifference. 

It might have been so with Manasseh when the dungeon- 
vault was left, and when, under a royal escort, he was once 
more conducted back to his palace and crown. He might 
have basely spurned the hand that rescued him, and relapsed 
into his old courses. But he stood the test. We read that 
it was WHEN God had brought him again to Jerusalem into his 
kingdom, "then Manasseh knew that the Lord He ivas God!' 

It must have been a noble sight, to see him, in the face 
of his whole people, not only manifesting the saving change 
in his own heart and life, but as all true religion is expansive, 
and seeks the good of others, commencing at once religious 
and civil, ecclesiastical and political, reform. He began by 
cutting down, root and branch, all his old abominations. The 
statues of Ashtaroth, — the heathen groves, — the defiled altars, 
■ — all are swept away. Nor was it a mere external reformation, 
— a mere negative religion, — the " ceasing to do evil." But he 
taught himself, and he taught his people, " to do well." " He 
repaired the altar of the Lord, and sacrificed thereon peace- 
offerings and thank-offerings." Offerings for sin, and offer- 
ings of gratitude for mercies. He became himself a preacher 
of righteousness. It was a great revival in Judah. " He 
stood by the altar, and" we read, "commanded Judah to 
serve the Lord God of Israel." He evidently returned in 
the spirit of Zaccheus the publican, resolved to " restore four- 
fold ;" saying, " What shall I render unto the Lord for all 
His benefits toward me $ " 

Strange but joyous sight to the true Israel of God in 



198 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

Jerusalem — those who for years had wept in secret over their 
monarch's sins and over " the holy and beautiful house where 
their fathers worshipped" — to behold now the long- smoulder- 
ing ashes a^ain kindled on the altar for the morning and 
evening sacrifice, — the king's own voice joining in the solemn 
hymn, " Oh give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good; for 
His mercy endureth for ever." 

Add to all this, and as a proof that worldly wisdom and 
prudence, in the best sense of the word, go hand in hand 
with true piety, he set himself with equal vigour to the 
strengthening of his kingdom. He reared a wall on the de- 
fenceless side of his capital, besides augmenting the strong- 
holds of his fenced cities. He was more a king than ever. 
All his praying, and praising, and temple-worship, had made 
him no fatalist, no presumptuous dreamer. It was no creed 
of his — " God will save us ; we need not trouble ourselves 
about defence or munitions, — walls or standing armies, horses 
or chariots, — the Lord will fight our battles!" No! his 
piety served only to invigorate his patriotism. He acted out 
the truth of that grand apostolic maxim, " Not slothful in 
business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." 

True piety requires us not to sink into sentimental devo- 
tion, — a dreamy life of inaction or enthusiasm, — but to inter- 
fuse all worldly work with religion ; — to let life's duties be 
saturated with the fear of God ; — erecting our churches, yet 
building our dockyards ; — rearing our altars, yet casting our 
cannon ; — letting the white wings of commerce be studding 
our seas, and bringing back laden stores from distant con- 
tinents, yet sending, at the same time, to heaven the winged 
vessels of prayer ; — waiting in faith for their return, laden 



A DARK DAY AND A BEIGHT SUNSET. 199 

frith costlier merchandise ; — taking religion and incorporat- 
ing it with daily life, — letting it regulate our transactions 
behind the counter, in the exchange, in the family, in the 
world, and proving to all the truth of that noble aphorism — 
"A Christian is the highest style of man." 

We may conclude this chapter with a word of warning, 
and a word of encouragement. 

The word of warning may be read from the consequences 
of Manasseh's guilt : — • 

He was a penitent, a sincere penitent. His aggravated 
sins were all pardoned and forgiven, and he afterwards lived 
and died, a true " Hebrew of the Hebrews/' an " heir of pro- 
mise." But the deadly influence of his early life of sin, was 
not so easily obliterated. We have already casually alluded 
to the fact, and return to it once more. If you read the 
sequel to his brief history, you will find that with all his 
efforts and zeal, he could only at best effect a partial reforma- 
tion. He found that personal repentance was an easier thing 
than national ; — that it was easier far, in the earlier part of 
his reign, to undo the effect of his father's virtues, than in the 
latter part, to undo his own crimes. "Nevertheless" we read, 
" the people did sacrifice still in the high places," Ah ! how 
it would embitter his closing days to see, here and there, pol- 
luted incense still rising from unhallowed groves and altars, 
and the trumpet of vengeance sounding its retributive note 
in his ear, — " Be sure your sin will find you out ! " Even in 
his own private funeral obsequies and secluded tomb, we can 
see a fruit of his early sin. By his reformation, and return 
to the worship of his father's God, he had alienated the 



200 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

companions of his guilt and the abettors of his idolatrous 
practices. Those, on the other hand, who gladly hailed his 
change of mind, would he slow, as is generally the case, to 
credit the reality ; and even if certified of this, they could never 
heartily forgive, or at least forget, the murderer of their fathers 
or mothers or children. Dying, therefore, though he did, a 
believer — a true child of Abraham — many tears did not f ollow 
him to the grave, nor did willing hands rear a monument to 
his memory ; moreover, he himself, painfully aware how his 
inconsistent former life had compromised him in the eyes of 
his people, might forbid the funeral pomp usually accompany- 
ing royal obsequies. With no feigned humility, he had proba- 
bly, as the shedder of the blood of God's prophets, pronounced 
his ashes unworthy to mix with that of his nobler ancestry, 
and on his death-bed given instructions that his interment 
might take place within the precincts of his own garden. 

Eeader, beware of sin. Think of the bitter consequences 
it entails, — how by unholy acts or inconsistent deeds, influ- 
ence is lessened or character lost. Avoid debateable ground. 
Keep off from what is likely to compromise you. Remem- 
ber righteous Lot. He made little after all of the rich 
plains of Sodom and its luxurious capital. Men pointed at 
him with the finger of scorn. Dark stains blotted the close 
of his life. Even in the case of Manasseh, with a nobler and 
more consistent termination to existence (many years, as we 
may surmise, of devotedness to the God of Israel), — yet it 
was easier for men to remember Manasseh the infidel, the 
scoffer, the profligate, the persecutor, the reckless prodigal, — ■ 
than Manasseh the converted, the royal penitent, the prodigal 
restored, the wondrous monument of divine grace and mercy ! 



A DAKK DAY AND A BEIGHT SUNSET. 201 

But we have also, as we watch this singular "sunset," a 
lesson of encouragement 

We have a glorious testimony, in the case of Manasseh, 
that no sinner need despair. He is now stooping over the 
walls of heaven, in company with Saul the blasphemer, 
Zaccheus the extortioner, the Magdalene of the Pharisee's 
house, the dying felon of Calvary, and proclaiming that, for 
the vilest sinner, there is mercy. Yes, although this man had 
defied his God ; had scorned pious counsels ; had added blood- 
shed and cruelty to rampant unbelief and lawless lust ; — yet 
when the blast of God's trumpet sounded over the apparently 
impregnable citadel of his heart, it fell to the dust ; and from 
that hour, in which grace triumphed, its walls became " salva- 
tion and its gates praise." 

And that grace which saved Manasseh, can save every one 
of us, — the poorest, the vilest, the most desponding. 

Is there one such whose eye traces these pages ; — some one 
whose whole past life is one sad foul retrospect, — a story of 
aggravated guilt and impiety, — a father's counsels, a mother's 
prayers, mocked and scorned ; — deep, dark stains blotting 
every page of conscience and memory ? Have God's bow- 
men of conviction found you in the thorns? Have they 
dragged you to some dungeon of despair, and left you, amid 
the darkness of its rayless vaults, to brood over impending 
death ? Oh ! send up your cry for mercy to Manasseh's 
God. He will not scorn you. No ; though you have scorned 
Him, scorned His people, scorned His mercies, scorned His 
afflictions, scorned His providence, scorned His ministers, 
yet He will not scorn you. " He will regard the cry of the 
destitute, and will not despise their prayer." This story of 



202 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

Manasseli has been "written for the generations to come, 
that the people which shall be created may praise the Lord!'* 

And is there no special encouragement here to Christian 
parents? We have alluded, more than once, to Manasseli 
scorning his father's piety and prayers. We have spoken of 
good Hezckiah, as his end approached, imbuing that young 
heart with these prayers, pouring on that young kingly brow 
this best anointing oil. Alas ! is it another case .on which 
to found the sneer of the infidel ? — " What need is there of 
prayer ? Here is another testimony that the prayer of pious 
lips ascends in vain. Hezekiah prays. But the heavens are 
as brass and the earth as iron. The Lord has 'not heard/ 
the ' God of Jacob has not regarded.' This child of prayer 
grows up a daring and defiant unbeliever. ' Is there a God 
on the earth ? ' " 

Nay, man ; who art thou that repliest against . God ? 
Hezekiah's prayer is heard. His cries have not entered in 
vain into the ears of the God of Sabaoth. " The vision is 
yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and 
shall not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will 
surely come, it will not tarry!' -)- Years upon years — half 
a lifetime — had elapsed, — since the arrow'of prayer had sped 
from He sekiah's bow. But when the good old king is sleep- 
ing his deep sleep, in the regal sepulchre on Zion, lo! in 
yonder far-oiT dungeon, washed by the tide of the distant 
Euphrates, the arrow has reached its mark ; the word of the 
Lord is tried ; — " Cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou 
EH ALT find it after many days!' I 

* Ps. cii. 18, t Hab, ft & t Ec. si 1. 



XIL 

BmxBtt mx Ufaiwt Sfamajr, 



" He said, 
In falt'ring accents, to the weeping train. 
' Why mourn ye that our aged friend is dead ? 
Ye are not sad to see the gather'd grain, 
Nor when the mellow fruit the orchards cast, 
Nor when the yellow woods shake down their ripen'd mast. 

" ' Ye sigh not when the sun — his course f ulfill'd, 
His glorious course, rejoicing earth and sky — 
In the soft evening, when the winds are still' d, 
Sinks where the islands of refreshment lie, 
And leaves the smile of his departure spread 
O'er the warm-colour'd heav'n and ruddy mountain-head. 

"* ' Why weep ye, then, for him who, having run 
The bound of man's appointed years, at last, 
God's promises fulfill' d, life's labours done, 
Serenely to his final rest has past ; 
While the soft memory of his virtues yet 
Lingers like twilight hues when the bright sun is set?"* 

— Bryant. 

" And, behold, there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon ; 
and the same man was just and devout, waiting for the consolation of 
Israel : and the Holy Ghost was upon him. And it was revealed unto 
him by the Holy Ghost, that he should not see death, before he had seen 
the Lord's Christ. And he came by the Spirit into the temple : and when 
the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him after the custom of 
the law, then took he him up in his arms, and blessed God, and said, Lord, 
now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word : for 
mine eyea have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the 
face of all people*, a light to lighten the Gentibs, and the glory of thy 
people Israel."— Luse ii. 25-33. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT MORIAH. 

S-itfEON occupies, in sacred story, a place peculiar to himself. 
He is the Melchizedek of this transition-period — the con- 
necting link between the Mosaic and the Gospel dispen- 
sations, — telling by significant word and act, that " all old 
things" were "passing away" and all things becoming 
"new!" 

We may regard him, moreover, as the "representative 
man " of the pious remnant of Israel of that age. He had 
long been sitting, an earnest student, at the feet of the pro- 
phets who had testified of Christ ; or standing, like the mother 
of Sisera at the window, with the roll of Micah in his hand, 
and straining his eyes towards Bethlehem-Ephratah, he had 
been asking, in prayerful expectation, " Why is his chariot 
so long in coming? why tarry the wheels of his chariot?" 

But he can afford, too, to resign himself patiently to the 
will of God. This he knew, that that great event waited for 
by all time, must be close at hand ; for he had personally 
received a divine promise, that his eyes should not be sealed 
in death, until gladdened with the glorious vision which 
many saints and wise men of old had " desired to see, but 
were not permitted ! " At length are his hopes and prayers 
gloriously realised. " The Desire of all nations/' according 
to the latest prophetic intimation, has " come." " The Lord," 
whom the devout Israelite had long sought, " suddenly comes 
to his temple," and, in the person of a little child, " fills it with 



206 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

his glory ! '*' * With the infant Babe in his arms, and the tear 
of joy and gratitude in his eye, he is permitted to take up the 
strains which for ages past had hung on the lips, and supported 
the faith of a waiting church — " Unto us a child is bom, unto 
us a son is given, . . . and his name shall be called Won- 
derful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, 
The Prince of Peace," the glory of his Church, the Consola- 
tion of Israel, the Light of the World ! And now, the re- 
joicing patriarch, with the promised Saviour in his arms, and 
salvation on his tongue, is ready to die. 

Let us gaze on this Gospel Sunset with its mellowed 
glory. Let us gather, in thought, around this hoary-headed 
sire, and listen to the exulting notes with which he is willing 
to bid farewell to the world. Well, truly, might he exult. 
The greatest of the Caesars was then on the throne. But 
what was that sceptre — that rod of empire, he wielded — 
although the badge of the world's sovereignty, — compared to 
that " rod out of the stem of Jesse," which an old Hebrew 
clasped in his arms ? The throne of Csesar ! — it has long 
ago crumbled — the sceptre of Csesar ! — it has long ago been 
broken in pieces by the grasp of contending nations. But 
Simeon beheld, in these smiles of helpless infancy, the germ 
of a kingdom that should overthrow all others, and, yet, 
itself " never be destroyed ; " a throne that was to be " estab- 
lished for ever," and of " the increase of whose government 
and peace there was to be no end /""f* 

It is interesting to mark the occasion of this scene in the 
temple of Jerusalem, which had brought Mary and the child 
Jesus from Bethlehem. At the birth of every son, the 

* Mai. iii. 1. t Isa. ix. 7. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT MORIAH. 207 

mother, by the Jewish law, was regarded as ceremonially 
■unclean, and for forty days (as we read in the 12th chapter 
of Leviticus,) she was permitted to " touch no hallowed thing, 
nor come into the sanctuary." She was enjoined thereafter, 
to carry a sin-offering and a burnt-offering " unto the door of 
the tabernacle of the congregation, to the priest/' who was to 
"offer it before the Lord, and make an atonement for her." 
" When the days of her purifying are fulfilled, for a son, or 
for a daughter, she shall bring a lamb of the first year for 
a burnt-offering, or a young pigeon, or a turtle-dove, for a 
sin-offering." And in the case of those whose extreme poverty 
and lowly condition did not permit of this costlier sacrifice, 
it was sufficient for them to bring a humbler one — "And if 
she be not able to bring a lamb, then she shall bring two 
turtles, or two young pigeons ; the one for the burnt-offering, 
and the other for a sin-offering : and the priest shall make an 
atonement for her, and she shall be clean/' (ver. 8.) 

What a touching delineation is here given of the Saviour's 
lowly state and poverty ! Mary coming up to the temple 
to offer the accustomed sacrifices, " according to that which 
is said in the law of the Lord," "a pair of turtle-doves 
or two young pigeons." But where is the lamb for the 
burnt-offering? Has her meek spirit already forgot the 
thanksgivings of that hour of unexpected joy, when in 
exulting strains she thus poured out the emotions of an 
overflowing heart, — "My soid doth magnify the Lord, 
and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. For 
he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden: 
for, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call 
me blessed. He that is mighty hath done to me great 



208 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

tilings i " * No ! Her lowly estate will not admit of " the 
lamb for the burnt-offering" — and in its stead she must sub- 
stitute the gracious alternative provided for the poor of the 

people, " A PAIK OF TUETLE-DOVES OE TWO YOUNG PIGEONS ! " 

It is from such incidental circumstances as these, — those 
minuter incidents which crowd His mysterious pilgrimage of 
love, — that we obtain the most affecting displays of the Re- 
deemer's humiliation. At one time, we behold Him a home- 
less wanderer, who, when "every man went unto his own 
house, Jesus went unto the Mount cf Olives ;" f — (when 
there was a home for every one in Jerusalem, there was 
no home for Him !) Again, as a weary, toil-w T orn pilgrim, 
exhausted and fatigued with his journey, He is seated by a 
well on the way-side, asking a cup of cold water from a 
poor sinner whom He had redeemed with His blood ; % and 
here, we contemplate a lowly woman, bending before the 
temple-gate, and telling to all around, by the humble offer- 
ings she lays on the altar, that poverty is the birthright of 
her infant Child ! 

But we proceed to gather a few beams from this hallowed 
"sunset" — a few thoughts from this closing chapter in 
Simeon's life, as delineated in the sacred narrative. 

We have there presented, a beautiful epitome of the Chris- 
tian character. And though his spiritual graces were called 
into lively exercise by what was presented immediately to 
sight, that same glorious reality remains to us still an object 
of faith, which we may appropriate as really and as substan- 
tially as Simeon did ! 

* Luke i. 48-49. f John vii. 53. t John iv. 6, 



SUNSET ON MOUNT MOEIAH. 209 

Observe, I. The object of all his joy — it wan "seeing 
Christ the Lord!' 

To see God ! what an honour ! The highest Archangel in 
heaven knows no higher ! It was the culminating prayer of 
Moses of old, " / beseech thee, shew me thy glory" The 
prayer was answered — but how ? The honoured servant of 
God was hid in a rocky cleft ; and the hand of God covered 
his face, as the terribleness of the divine Majesty swept by ; 
for, said He, "no man can see my face and live." But 
here, a devout Hebrew, who trod in the footsteps of Moses' 
faith, is permitted to gaze on the God-man unconsumed. 
His glory is veiled under a garb of humanity. God is " in 
very deed dwelling with man on the earth " — " Great is the 
mystery of godliness; God manifest in the flesh." Yes! 
Simeon stands in the magnificent shrine of which Haggai 
and Malachi spake. The glory of Solomon's house, with all 
the gold of Ophir, and all the wealth of Lebanon, and the 
lavish splendour of Tyrian handicraft, fades into nothing by 
reason of the new consecration it has received from that 
" Infant of days." " The glory of this latter house " is 
"greater than the glory of the former." Let its veil be rent ! 
let its dim altar-fires be quenched ! Let it not bewail its 
missing Shekinah, or cling to its melting shadows. The 
types have given place to the great Antitype. The advent- 
hour is striking: — "Lift up your heads, ye gates, that 
the King of glory may come in" chimes from the temple- 
towers. The Lord truly was in that place, though a scoffing 
world knew it not — " it was none other than the House of 
God, and the gate of heaven." 

The object of the joy of every genuine believer is the same 

o 



210 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

as that of Simeon, — " Christ the Lord." True, indeed, that 
Saviour is changed in His outward state or condition. The 
infant Babe, whom the aged man folded in his arms, is now 
seated on a mediatorial throne, wielding the sceptre of uni- 
versal empire. The earthly Temple in which He stood, is ex- 
changed for the august sanctuary above, where every knee is 
at this moment bending, and every tongue confessing that 
He is " Lord to the glory of God the Father." But though 
no longer an object of contemplation to the natural eye, His 
heart changeth never — " Whom having not seen, we love; in 
whom, though now we see him not, yet believing," (like Sim- 
eon) "we rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of glory."* 

And as Jesus, the Object of faith, is the same to the be- 
liever now, as he was to this Saint of old ; so will every soul, 
which has felt the burden of sin, be equally prepared to hail 
Him as " the Consolation of Israel." The world had been 
longing for its Lord ; it was growing weary of its sins and 
sorrows ; all the remedies philosophy and civilisation had 
applied, had failed to erase one furrow from its brow, or 
bind up one of its bleeding wounds. Woe- worn humanity 
had been sighing for four thousand years for a Deliverer. 
The Jewish Church — the godly remnant of God's covenant 
people — were also panting for a brighter day. The nation's 
altars were blazing with unhallowed fire ; a general apostasy 
prevailed; many a holy saint sat in ashes, amid a sadder 
spiritual desolation than that of the prophet who uttered 
the plaintive soliloquy, " How doth the city sit solitary, that 
was full of people ! " -f* 

But the great Consoler has appeared ! the footfall of the 
* 1 Pet. i. 8. f Lam. i. 1 



SUNSET ON MOUNT MOEIAH. 211 

great Physician is heard — the Lord has come ! " He shall 
speak peace to his people and to his saints !" 

What Christ was to the believing Jewish remnant collec- 
tively, He still is to His believing people individually. In 
every possible variety of condition and circumstance ; in all 
their wants and sorrows, their afflictions, their sufferings, 
their temptations and fears, this is the blessed "name where- 
with he is called" — "the Consolation of Israel." 

Are there any who peruse these pages, overwhelmed under 
a sense of sin, which they feel too heavy for them to bear, 
and which is almost leading them to despair of pardon? 
Christ is "Consolation" for you. These are His precious 
words, " Gome unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy 
laden, and I will give you rest." * 

Are there any who are struggling with the corruptions of 
their own evil hearts ; — who feel the power of indwelling ini- 
quity dragging them to the dust in spite of all their efforts to 
soar heavenwards ; — temptations so assailing them, as oft- 
times to extort the cry of agony, " wretched man that I 
am, who shall deliver me?" Christ is " Consolation " for you. 
Hear His own blessed promise, " My grace is sufficient for 
thee ; for my strength is made perfect in weakness." -f* 

Are there any who are experiencing seasons of darkness 
and depression, who are sighing in vain over the loss of 
hours of holy joy and peace, whose memory is now all that 
remains ; — any who are tempted, in the despondency of their 
hearts, to say with mourning Zion, "My God hath forsaken 
me, and my Lord hath forgotten me 1 " Christ is " Consola- 
tion * too for you. These are His own gracious words, " Can 

* Matt. xi. 28. t 2 Cor. xii. 9. 



212 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have 
compassion on the son of her womb ? She may forget, yet 
will I not forget thee." * " Return, ye backsliding children, 
and I will heal your backsliding!' -f* 

Are there any who have been called to pass through the 
furnace of affliction ; — who are mourning over the wreck of 
some beloved earthly joy — some cup of earthly consolation 
winch has been dashed from their lips, and with it all their 
hopes of earthly happiness? Oh, Christ is "Consolation" 
for you. These are among the last words which dropped from 
His lips before He gave the great, the omnipotent pledge of 
His love, — "/ will not leave you comfortless ; I ivill come 
unto you"\ 

But why need we swell the catalogue of a Saviour's con- 
solations? There is not a wounded bosom on earth for 
which " there is not balm in Gilead, and a Physician there." 
Christ is " the consolation " — " the God of all consolation." 
He has a remedy for every evil, — an antidote for every sorrow, 
— a cordial for every heart, — a hand of love to wipe every 
weeping eye, — a heart of tenderness to sympathise with every 
sorrowful bosom, — an arm of power to protect, — a rod of love 
to chasten, — immutable promises to encourage on earth, — an 
unfading crown to bestow in heaven ; — strength to bestow 
in the hour of weakness, — courage in the hour of danger, — 
faith in the hour of darkness, — comfort in the hour of sorrow, 
— victory in the hour of death ! 

The world's consolations ! What are they in comparison 
to this 1 Test them in the time when they are needed most, 
and they will be found to be the first to give way, — broken 

* Isa. xlix. 15. t Jer. iii. 12. % John xiv. 18- 



SUNSET ON MOUNT MOEIAH. 213 

reeds — the sport of every tempest that desolates the heart 
But here, tempest-tossed, here is " thy Consolation" em- 
phatically " the consolation" — for the consolations of Christ 
are those alone which are independent of all times and cir- 
cumstances, all vicissitudes and changes, — which avail alike 
in prosperity and adversity, in joy and sorrow, in health 
and sickness, in life and death. Nay, the drearier the 
desert, the sweeter and more refreshing are the streams 
of consolation of which lie calls us to partake. The darker 
and gloomier the night of earthly woe, the more gladsome 
is it when this great Day-star of " consolation " is made to 
arise ! 

II. Let us note the character given of this aged man. 

He was "just and devout" — "just" to man, and "devout" to 
God ; implying a scrupulous observance of both tables of the 
law : a beautiful combination : the result of an active, living, 
influential faith — "working by love, purifying the heart, and 
overcoming the world." Here is the secret of all true 
morality and holy living. JTever let it be said that the ten- 
dency of the doctrine of free forgiveness is to turn the grace 
of God into licentiousness, and give permission to sin with 
impunity ! What does experience testify ? Is it not that 
the holiest and humblest ; — those most distinguished by lofty 
integrity to man, and close and habitual walking with God, 
are they who are looking most simply and undivideclly to 
Christ as their only ground of hope and assurance, — who, like 
Simeon, have taken Him in the arms of their faith, and em- 
braced Him as " all their salvation and all their desire?" It 
was the same mighty, constraining influence, in his case pro- 



214 SUNSETS ON THE EEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

spective, in ours retrospective, which leads us thus to judge, 
that "if one died for all, then were all dead: and that he 
died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live 
unto themselves, but unto him which died for them, and rose 
igain." * 

III. Observe the special Christian grace in the character 
of Simeon called into exercise with reference to the great 
object of his hopes. He is represented as "waiting" — 
" waiting for the Consolation of Israel." 

He had again and again gone, like the lone watcher on the 
mountain-top, to catch the first glimpse of the rising beam. 
Often, we may well believe, had he climbed, with pilgrim-staff, 
the steeps of Zion, and planted himself by the temple-gates, to 
hail the entrance of the promised King, saying, in the words 
of one of the old songs of Zion, — "My soul ivaitethfor the 
Lord more than they that watch for the morning!' Nor 
would he abandon these holy watchings until he could joy- 
fully exclaim, " Lo ! this is our God ; we have waited for 
him." *f* 

" Waiting!' This is a compound virtue. It is made up of 
the two Christian graces, Faith and Patience. When a man 
waits, it implies, first of all, belief in the reality of the object 
of his expectation. He believes it to have a real existence, 
and that eventually it shall be his. But it implies also 
uncertainty as to the time of the fulfilment of its hopes ; the 
possibility of a period of suspense and anxiety intervening, 
before the object of his wishes can be attained. 

No child of God can be ignorant of this twin Christian 
* 2 Cor. v. 14, 15. t Isa. xxv. 9. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT MOEIAH. 215 

grace. Every redeemed soul in yonder heaven knows of it ; 
for it is expressly .said, that, from Abel downwards, it is 
" through faith and patience they are now inheriting the 
promises." Think how many and how precious are the 
assurances the Bible gives to waiting Christians. " The Lord 
is good to them that wait for him." * " Wait on the Lord, 
be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart!' "f* 
We found in a previous chapter that aged Jacob's dying 
words of exultation and joy were these, — " I have "waited 
for thy salvation, God." 

It were easy for God to give an immediate answer to 
the prayers of His people ; by snapping all at once every 
chain of sin or suffering, to usher them into the glorious 
liberty of His children. But He would have them learn a 
lesson of dependence on Himself, — of trust and submission, — 
of resignation and patience. He would have "weeping" 
and " waiting " to " endure for the night/' that they might 
value all the more " the joy " which shall assuredly come 
"in the morning." Yes, their waiting time here, though 
often doubtless a trying time, will, in the light of eternity, 
be seen and confessed to be a precious time ; a gracious 
part of the cross, which, in the case of every redeemed 
child of God, must precede the crown. How will not the 
blessedness of that world of unbroken rest be enhanced, by 
the trials and struggles, the tossings and tribulations which 
went before ; when life's tempestuous sea, wherein faith and 
patience were oft well-nigh shipwrecked, is exchanged for 
that haven of peace, where not one wave of trouble is ever 
after to roll ! 

* Lam. iii. 25. + Ps. xrvii. 14. 



216 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

IV. Let us note how Simeon was brought at this time 
into the Temple. 

He came " by the Spirit" We read, in the previous verse, 
that " the Holy Ghost was upon him ; " and without the 
Spirit's influences, none of these lofty Christian graces could 
have been his. On entering its courts, what does he find 
there ? A lowly woman with an infant Babe. No mystic 
star, no angelic host is there, to proclaim His glory. Yet 
the Holy Spirit opens the aged saint's eyes, and tells him 
to behold in that helpless Child, the Saviour of mankind. 

The ordinances of God are the Temple to which believers 
are still summoned to behold their Lord. The House of 
prayer is such a Temple. The power and glory of God 
have, in the experience of His people in all ages, been " seen 
in the sanctuary." " The Lord loveih the gates of Zion 
more than all the dwellings of Jacob ; " * and it is His own 
gracious declaration, "I will make them joy fid in my house 
of prayer." f 

The Bible is such a Temple. Unlike that in which Simeon 
stood, whose holiest courts were open only to a favoured 
few, it is patent to every worshipper. Glorious temple it is ! 
God's own words its living stones ; His immutable promises 
its pillars ; His oath and covenant its foundations ; its walls 
salvation ; its gates praise ; Jesus Christ its corner-stone ; 
prophets, and apostles, and saints its high-priests, giving 
forth the responses of Deity ! But what will all the glories 
of either temple be to us, unless, like Simeon, we be led there 
of the Holy Ghost? "Without His influence, we shall find 
a deserted sanctuary. We may have the name of Jesus on 
* Ps. IsxsviL 2. f Isa. lvi. 7- 



SUNSET ON MOUNT MOEIAH. 217 

our lips, and His praises on our tongue ; but without the 
Spirit of God, there will be "no beauty that we should 
desire him/'* Many other worshippers were doubtless in 
the temple of Jerusalem when Simeon entered, and who 
gazed with him on the infant Child ; but it was he alone 
who had come forth from communion with his God, and on 
whom the Spirit was, who "beheld his glory, the glory 
as of the only-begotten of the Father, fall of grace and 
truth? f 

Let the prayer of Moses ever be ours, before entering 
the holy ground of ordinances, " If thy presence? Spirit 
of God ! " go not with us, carry us not up hence? j Ee- 
member; that " no man can say that Jesus is Lord but by 
the Holy Ghost? I 

V. Observe next, the consummation of his faith, — "Then 
toth he }iim up in his arms? 

What a moment of ecstasy was this. The day on which 
his hopes, and wishes, and prayers had long been centred, 
had now at last arrived. He of whom Isaiah had sung as 
" the Hope of Israel? was now its " Consolation ! " "Mine 
eyes have seen thy salvation!" The waiting-time of the 
saii/t is now at an end ; and, with the promised Child in his 
embrace, he can look forward to a peaceful departure. What 
glowing emotions, in this hour of joy, must have been kindled 
m his heart! That great "mystery of godliness/' of which 
seers had sung ; — the burden of the types, and prophecies, 
and hopes, and longings of ages ; — " the seed of the woman * 
--the promised " Shiloh ,, — u the Star of Judah"—"thi 

* Isa. liii. 2. t John i. 14. J Exod. xxxiii. 15. g 1 Cor. xii. 3. 



218 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

hiding-place from the storm " — " the Branch'" whose " leaves 
were for the healing of the nations " — " the fountain to be 
opened for David's house " — " the Desire of all nations " — 
" the Prince of Peace " — is now folded in his arms, 

But the aged Israelite, in these moments of exultation, is 
carried by inspiration down the vista of coming ages ; and 
fresh visions of glory crowd up from the future. National 
bigotry can find no place in a heart overflowing like his. 
He knows no distinction between Jew and Gentile. With the 
true catholic and expansive spirit of the dawning gospel dis- 
pensation, he looks forward to the time when men of every 
nation, and kindred, and people, and tongue, shall kiss the 
sceptre of this anointed Child, and confess him to be " King 
of kings, and Lord of lords ; " — " Mine eyes have seen thy sal- 
vation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all people; 
a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people 
Israel"* It forms a fine picture, to watch the sunset 
radiance, — the last visions which crowd and linger around the 
evening of this old man's days. He is standing on the bor- 
ders of the grave. Earth seems receding, and heaven in 
view. But where are his thoughts ? not on himself but on 
the illumination of the world ; — on that day when the Sun 
of Bighteousness was to arise on the nations with " healing 
in his beams," and when " Gentiles should come to his light, 
and Icings to the brightness of his rising." -f* It is a mis- 
sionary prayer which forms the last breathings of the 
departing saint. It reminds us of the concluding strain 
which rose from the harp of the royal Psalmist of Israel. It 
was a magnificent anthem over a regenerated world — a 

* Luke ii. 30-32. t Isa. lx. 3. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT MORIAH. 219 

prayer, not for Israel, but for mankind. "Let the ivhole 
earth be filled with his glory" — then, then only, could he 
close the fervent aspirations of his soul ; — then, then only, 
when he had commended the cause of A WORLD to God, could 
he add, — "The prayers of David the son of Jesse are ended."* 

So it was with Simeon. He holds the Messiah forth, in 
his withered arms, by a symbolic action, to the whole world. 
As if he had said, " Take Him, ye nations ! Israel's glory is 
now to wane. The mission of the peculiar people is ended. 
The gates of the old economy are now to be shut, after being 
opened for two thousand years. The portico of the wide 
world is now to be unclosed ! Gentiles, meet him with your 
hosannas ! Come, Sheba and Seba, and offer him your 
gifts ! Come, Ethiopia, strike off your iron fetters, and 
stretch out your hands unto God ! Distant isles of the ocean, 
prepare His diadem ; — ' crown him Lord of all/ Ships of 
Tarshish, spread your sails for a costlier freight, and nobler 
mission, — carrying apostles from shore to shore with ' the 
unsearchable riches of Christ ! ' Let the kingdoms of the 
earth ' sing praises to this King ; ' — for that holy fane, which 
is now trodden by my tottering steps, is henceforth by Him 
to be made 'a house of prayer for all nations.'" 

That which formed the consummation of Simeon's faith, is 
the consummation of ours also, — taking Jesus in our arms ! 
Happier the soul cannot be, than when it is enabled to lay 
hold on Christ as " all its salvation." Simeon having seen his 
Lord, his hopes could go no further. Earth could give no 
more, and the aged man seeks no more. And so with the be- 
liever still. When he gets Christ as his portion, he needs no 
* Ps. lxxii. 19, 20. 



220 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

other, — he seeks no other. His language is, " Whom have 
I in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth that I 
desire beside thee ; " for, in point of fact, in thus by faith 
appropriating the Saviour, all worth calling a portion becomes 
his, — "the world," "life," "death," "things present," "things 
to come," the light of God's countenance, the sweets of 
His friendship, the smile of His love, — assurances out 
weighing the wealth of worlds. 

Observe, finally, Simeon having seen and embraced Christ, 
is prepared to die. "Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant 
depart in peace, according to thy word!' 

Not that he wearied of life. If God had willed it, he 
would cheerfully have remained to be a sharer with Christ in 
His sufferings, before being a partaker of His crown. But 
the divine promise, that death should not seal liis eyes till he 
had seen the Saviour, was fulfilled. He had now no longer 
any assurance of continued life, and he could fall asleep 
whenever his faithful Lord saw meet to take him. 

Eeader, having embraced your Lord by faith, are you 
ready to die ? With a Saviour in your arms, is the King of 
Terrors to you vanquished ? and are you prepared, when it is 
the will of God, to depart ? But mistake not. There may be 
some ready and willing to breathe, in one sense, Simeon's 
prayer — "Lord, let me depart in peace!' If not at this 
present moment, you may, in times past, have experienced 
seasons, when, weary of the world, life seemed a burden, 
and death was coveted and longed for as a welcome relief. 
In hours of sadness and desolation, when some fond earthly 
hope has been levelled with the ground, — some cup of earthly 



SUNSET ON MOUNT MORIAH. 221 

happiness dashed from the lips, — some lacerating disappoint- 
ment, some instance of deep ingratitude, or faithless friendship 
occurred ; — in such an hour as this, you may have often felt a 
longing to be done with the world, and tempted to exclaim 
with David, "Oh that I had wings like a dove, for then 
Li'juld I flee away and be at rest." * 

But mark ! Simeon's prayer was a prayer uttered, not in 
an hour of wretchedness, but in one of holiest and most 
rapturous joy — the most hallowed hour that had ever dawned 
on him. -f 

It was the sight of the promised Redeemer that disarmed 
death of its terrors, and made him alike content to live or 
willing to die. With a Saviour-God in his arms, come what 
mighfe, the aged saint was ready to meet it all. 

Learn here, the great secret of calm composure and joy in 
death ; — a cleaving closely to Christ Simeon was "just and 
devout ; " and doubtless as he had lived holy, so would he, in 
very proportion, die happy. But the "justness " and " de- 
voutness " of his character could not, by themselves, have 
smoothed his death-pillow. Many there are who thus may 
be said to die in peace ; — who can look back on lives of com- 
parative moral purity, unstained, it may be, by any very gross 
or glaring violation of God's law ; — just in all their dealings 
with their fellow-men ; — faithful in the discharge of life's 
relative duties ; — amiability and benevolence may have fol- 
lowed their footsteps, and in the world's estimation and their 
own, heaven is all secure. And yet they may all the while 
be whispering to themselves, " Peace, peace, when there is no 
peace!' It may be a delusive dream — a false slumber of 

* Pa lv. 6. t Bradley's Sacramental Sermons. 



222 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

self-security. Amiability of character — lofty moral virtues 
— will prove, in a dying hour, poor preparatives for a throne 
of judgment. But, united to Christ by a living faith, we can, 
with this aged saint, stand on the very borders of eternity, 
with the declaration on our lips that we are ready, whenever it 
is the will of God, to depart in peace. " Jesus ! Jesus ! " that 
is the magic word the dying man loves ! Jesus ! — How 
sweet that name sounds ! what music is there in it ! — when 
the recollection of all other names, (ay, that of wife, children, 
sister, brother,) has faded away. " Jesus !" It is a green 
spot in the waste of memory ! When all other earthly props 
and fastenings have given way, and the mind is drifting like 
a vessel broken loose from its moorings — " Jesus ! " That 
anchor secures it. The arms that can clasp nothing else, can 
clasp a living Eedeemer, and the lips can exclaim, "Now 
Lord, let me depart in 'peace /" 

We have all heard of " triumphant death-beds," here is 
the secret of them — " triumphant death-songs," here is the 
key-note of them. Let us learn the first notes of that song 
now, that when we come to a dying hour, we may sing it with 
unfaltering voice ; — having then nothing to do, but to die, 
with Christ in the arms of our faith, and salvation thrilling 
on our tongues. '• Jesus ! Jesus ! " It has been the one 
passport to white-robed myriads at the gate of heaven ! It 
was the name they last uttered on their dying couches. 
They were heard singing it through the dark valley ; : — they 
have carried it with them before the throne. Let it be our 
firm resolution, in a strength greater than our own, that that 
name shall be all our boast ; " that whether we live we will 
live unto the Lord, or whether we die we will die unto the 



SUNSET ON MOUNT MOKIAH. 223 

Lord" that thus, whether living or dying, we may be His : 
that, having Simeon's faith, we may at last be sharers in 
Simeon's crown, and with him look forward from a death 
full of peace, to an immortality full of glory* 

* The well-known " Sunset " Sonnet, of one of Se*>tland's true poets may 
here be inserted : — 

" A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun, 
A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow J 
Long had I watch'd the glory moving on 
O'er the still radiance of the lake below. 
Tranquil its spirit seem'd, and floated slow, — 
Even in its very motion there was rest, — 
While every breath of eve that chanced to blow 
Wafted the traveller to the beauteous west ; 
Emblem, methought, of the departed soul ! 
To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given, 
And, by the breath of mercy, made to roll 
Right onward to the golden gates of heaven : 
Where, to the eye of faith, it peaceful lies, 
And tells to man liis glorious destinies." 

— Wilsojt. 



SIIL 






"Oh, 'tis a placid rest, 

Who should deplore it ? 
Trance of the pure and blesfc, 

Angels watch o'er it ! 
Sleep of his mortal night, 

Sorrow can't break it ; 
Heaven's own morning light 

Alone shall wake it. 

w Kobly thy course is run, 

Splendour is round it; 
Bravely thy fight is won, 

Martyrdom crown'd ife. 
In the high warfare 

Of heaven grown hoary, 
Thou 'rt gone like the summer sun, 

Shrouded in glory." 

" And he sent, and beheaded John in the prison. And his head was 
brought in a charger, and given to the damsel : and she brought it to her 
mother. And his disciples came and took up the body, and buried it, and 
went and told Jesus. When Jesus heard of it, he departed thence by ship 
into a desert place apart." — Mat. xiv. 10-13. 

John i. 1-25 ; Luke iii. 1-20 ; Mat. ii. 1-20, 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF ABARIM. 

What an affecting scene is the burial of John the Baptist, 
— the first martyr of the gospel age ! A handful of attached 
disciples have taken up the headless body of their Master, 
and consigned it to its last earthly resting-place. And, most 
touching of all; — when they had completed these sad offices 
of affection, — returning the dust to its kindred dust, — they 
hasted away to unburden their sorrows to One who, they knew, 
was in all cases, but would be pre-eminently in the present — 
a "Brother born for adversity." "They went and told 
Jesus!'' 

With all the deep and intense sympathies of His holy 
human nature, and in the true spirit of a mourner, that 
gracious Eedeemer seeks, in this hour of bitter sorrow, the 
sacredness of retirement. " When Jesus heard of it, he de- 
parted thence by ship into a desert place apart." * The 
cruel blow seems to have been inflicted in the castle or fort 
of Macherus, on the eastern shore of the Dead Sea, where 
Herod (on his way to settle a feud with King Aretas) was 
holding a court festival. The faithful reprover of his lusts 
was pining in a dungeon under the banqueting hall ; and the 
rash oath that had escaped the royal lips, enables his para- 
mour to accomplish her deep-laid plot of revenge and blood. 

The mourning disciples of the murdered prophet had 

traversed a long and weary distance, all the way from Judea 

to Galilee, to pour their sorrows into the ear of the Great 

* Matt. xiv. 13. 
P 



226 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

Sympathiser. After mingling His grief with theirs, and 
imparting, doubtless, some sublime though unrecorded 
solaces, that Divine Kedeemer, leaving the mourners to their 
tears, crosses the lake of Tiberias to a sequestered spot, 
where He may muse in silence over the terrible bereavement, 
and give vent in solitude to His grief at the loss of His 
earliest human companion and friend. 

If we hear of no panegyric pronounced by the Saviour 
over the Baptist's tomb, or in the ears of his disciples after 
his burial ; that verdict and panegyric was anticipated at an 
earlier period, to which we shall presently advert, when He, 
who "spake as never man spake," declared that "of men 
that were born of women " there had arisen " not a greater 
than John the Baptist" 

There is something unique and picturesque about the 
whole history and character of this singular man. Travel- 
lers at this day, in the little-frequented denies, — the rugged 
ravines around the Jordan rapids, — describe the remarkable 
dress and appearance of the Bedouins or Dervishes, with 
their bronzed skins, and the striped Bedouin cloak or blan- 
ket, rudely woven of camel's hair, fastened with a leathern 
girdle round their naked bodies. Their homes either the caves 
and grottoes of the wilderness, or a rustic arbour or canopy 
formed of branches stripped from the abundant trees around. 
Their food the wild fruits of the mountain, the honey found 
in the rocks, or the nutritious manna exuding from the 
tamarisk. * 

We cannot wonder that these modern pictures should be 
suggestive of the olden scene which attracted wondering 

* Stanley's "Sinai and Palestine," p. 309. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF ABAPJM. 227 

thousands to those inaccessible glens of eastern Palestine, in 
the dawn of the Christian era. 

The voice of prophecy had been silent for four hundred, 
years. God had sealed up the vision since the days of Mala- 
chi. With the exception of a few devout souls, who, like 
Simeon and Anna, " waited for the consolation of Israel/' the 
spiritual life of Judah was well-nigh extinct ; — religion had 
degenerated into a round of empty forms, — worthless rou- 
tine. Its truthful type and delineation was that of Ezekiel's 
Valley, filled with bones and skeletons, from which all ani- 
mation had departed. But the long night of darkness has at 
last spent itself; — there are indications of coming dawn. 
Tidings spread that the prophetic spirit has again revived, — 
that a seer in the spirit of Elijah, if not the great Tishbite 
himself, had appeared in the remoter wilds of Judea ! At 
all events, One had risen, bold enough to make his voice 
heard, summoning, like the old prophets, the degenerate na- 
tion to repentance. 

The desert was alive with crowds hurrying to listen to his 
message. They formed a strange and heterogeneous assem- 
blage. There were rough boors, unlettered peasants, and 
fishermen from northern Galilee. There were stern Eoman 
soldiers from the barracks of Herod Antipas ; others from 
Damascus, on their way to measure swords with a lawless 
Arabian chieftain. These stood, with sheathed weapons, to 
listen to one heroic as their bravest. There were grasping, 
avaricious publicans and tax-gatherers, from Jericho and 
Tiberias, who came, either wearied of their nefarious life, 
or incited by the novelty of the occasion, to listen to the 
scourger of their vices. And, stranger than all ; Jerusalem, 



228 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

from its Sanhedrim, pours forth its phylacteried representa- 
tives ; — the Pharisee, (the high churchman of his day,) the 
stickler for forms and ritual observances, rubric and cere- 
mony, going to hear this unconsecrated man in an uncon- 
secrated place ; the Sadducee, the cold, scoffing infidel of the 
age, who looked on the world to come as a devout imagina- 
tion ; — forth they go, many of them, perhaps, with a sneer 
on their lips ; but others too, impelled by a nobler and 
truer motive — by the deep-felt wants of their souls. 
Onward flow these crowds ; the diverse streams all meet- 
ing and commingling around this strange, eccentric man. 
Ay, and more than all, and what stamps a surpassing 
interest on the scene, there is a Divine Personage, then 
unknown and unrecognised, — who has come too, from far 
north Galilee, to listen to His great forerunner, and, in these 
rapids of the Jordan, to partake of the mysterious ablu- 
tion. 

There must have been a grand, rough eloquence in the 
preaching of this child of nature. No laboured sentences, 
no artificial oratory, no metaphysical distinctions. They 
were short, abrupt, emphatic, stirring aphorisms ; — like the 
call of the prophet of Nineveh, when he rushed through that 
heathen capital, with his one solemn announcement of its 
impending doom. Such were John's exhortations. " Repent !" 
— Soldiers, Repent ! — Publicans, Repent ! — Pharisees, and 
Sadducees, generation of vipers, Repent! " flee from the 
wrath to come ! " His very similes are borrowed from the 
scenes among which he stood. The masses of rock that had 
tumbled from the heights of the gorge were strewed, in wild 
confusion, on the banks of Jordan ; — the river fretting its 
■~- t between them. The woodman's axe may have been ring- 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF ABABIM. 22 D 

ing in the boundless forests around ! " Men of form and 
routine ! " he says, addressing the Pharisee group, " entrench 
not yourselves behind these your ancestral and hereditary 
prerogatives, apart from holiness of character and life. God 
is able, if He sees meet, from these channel stones, these 
rugged rocks, to raise up children unto Abraham." " Lose 
no time, any of you, in listening to my trumpet summons ! 
Let these forest echoes sound a warning, ' Behold, now also the 
axe is laid to the root of the trees : therefore every tree 
which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast 
into the fire.' " * Even the locality which this brave preacher 
of righteousness selected, had its solemn associations. It 
could not be very far from the spot — (perhaps a little 
higher up the stream) — where the thousands of Israel had 
crossed the Jordan when in full flood. If so, this modern 
Elias must have been nigh also to the place at which his 
illustrious predecessor had divided the torrent with his 
mantle, when on his way to the solitudes beyond, which 
were to witness his glorious departure. 

This hallowed ground — the great Temple of nature — was 
a meet sanctuary surely, for the thunder-voice of the new 
prophet; its walls, the precipices of the Jordan ; — its canopy, 
the sky ; — the worshippers, a mingled congregation of earnest 
souls ; — brave men in tears — hard men softened — careless 
men arrested, — men of business — men of learning — men of 
public life, — all coming forth to hear a preacher of the wilder- 
ness, a Bedouin of his day ; — a man with no priestly consecra- 
tion — claiming no prophetical succession — his vestments the 
surplice of the desert — the rough covering of camel's hair, — » 
and his watchword the rallying-cry that brought these many 

* Matt. iii. 10. 



230 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

sick hearts around him, — "Repent, for the kingdom of 
heaven is at hand." 

Alas ! that so bright a meteor-light should have been so 
suddenly quenched in the darkness of death ! — that at the 
age of thirty-four, weeping mourners should be gathered 
round his bloody tomb ! But he had accomplished his 
work. Gloriously and faithfully had he fulfilled his special 
mission, and doubtless he now rejoices that he was honoured 
to be the first to inscribe his name in the yet unwritten page 
of the gospel book of martyrs, — the "noble army" that were 
in after ages " to praise God." 

Let us gather round the early grave of the Baptist, and 
seek to analyse, for our profit and imitation, the leading 
elements in his character. 

The first element in John's character we may notice, is 
his boldness and fidelity. 

It was indeed a noble thing to see a man come forth, with 
heroic heart, to unmask hypocrisy in all its forms and phases, 
and lash unsparingly the conventional follies, and sins, and 
vices of the times. We require to put ourselves in the place 
of his contemporaries, rightly to estimate his moral courage 
and intrepidity. It was no small matter, surely, for a Jew to 
say boldly to an excited crowd of Hebrews, that descent from 
Abraham was nothing ;- — to turn to numbers of grumbling, 
mutinous soldiers and say, "Be content with your wages;" 
— to turn to the fraudulent publicans and say, " Forsake your 
impious gains, and be honest men ; " — nay, more, giving forth 
the unmistakeable warning to all, that if the covenant nation 
were unfaithful, some other would supersede it ; for out of 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OE ABAFJM. 231 

barren Gentile rocks, God could raise up true " children unto 
Abraham" 

Nor was his the mere momentary impulsive boldness that 
rose suddenly to its climax and then collapsed ; — sustained by 
the excitement of the thousands gathering around him, but 
which dwindled and dwarfed into imbecility whenever the 
tide of popularity and power had turned. He was no 
Peter, with brave hero-speeches one day, and coward and 
craven fears the next. He was not even like his great 
but more impetuous prototype, — the reprover of Ahab one 
day, and the next plunging into the wilderness — forsak- 
ing his post of duty. His intrepidity is noblest in ad- 
versity. 

He who could best read his character, bears emphatic 
attestation to his indomitable boldness to the last. When 
John's disciples, — who still seem to have had access to 
him in his imprisonment — saw their noble-hearted master 
apparently thus hopelessly immured, their courage began to 
droop, their faith to stagger. " Could he not have been mis- 
taken, after all, in the testimony he bore to the Messiahship 
of Jesus of Nazareth ? If Jesus were indeed the Christ, why 
did He not come, in the might of His divine omnipotence, to 
the rescue of His innocent forerunner, — rending these cruel 
bars asunder, and letting the wilderness' voice, so unjustly 
stifled, be once more heard?" John saw their incipient 
misgivings. Strong in faith himself, he desires to have 
their wavering minds confirmed. For this purpose he selects 
two of their number, and sends them direct to the Saviour, 
with the question, "Art thou he that should come? or look 
we for another ? " Christ, in reply, points them to His 



232 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

miracles, enumerating them in detail, and then adding, 
"Blessed is he ivhosoever shall not be offended in me."* 
And when these messengers have departed, Jesus turns to 
the multitude that were present, and delivers to them a very 
noble vindication of his servant's character. In most of the 
utterances of Christ, there is a grand and severe simplicity; — 
the calm statements of a Being of meek majesty — who had 
come " to bear witness to the truth," and scorned any 
redundant drapery of language. But this occasion seems 
an exception. In vindicating His beloved friend from any 
unworthy aspersions, He rises to fervour ; — His words glow 
with a lofty energy, beauty, and power. Fearful lest the 
people might have misunderstood and misinterpreted the 
motive of John in sending these delegates from prison, 
He impresses upon them that it was from no dubiety 
that existed in the mind of the sender, who had ever been 
" strong in faith, giving glory to God!' " What,'' says He, 
went ye out into the wilderness to see ? a reed shaken by the 
wind ? " Was John's a character whose fitting type was one 
of those trembling, shaking, brittle reeds rustling amid the 
jungles of the Jordan? Is he likely now to lapse into infi- 
delity, — to droop, a withered flower, in that dungeon, — his sun 
going down gloomily amid clouds of unbelief ? Nay ; he is 
too much the hero, the true, the brave, for that. His whole 
life gives the lie to the insinuation. He will prove no rene- 
gade, who had the boldness, at the opening of his ministry, 
to denounce Pharisee and Saclducee ; — and at the close of it to 
rebuke the royal adulterer, — though in so doing, he could 

* Luke vii. 19-21. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF ABAETM. 233 

calculate too well on the penalty he should be called to pay for 
| his outspoken fidelity. 

| AVould that there were among all of us (and especially 

\ among God's ministers) more of this bold, uncompromising 

statement of truth ! in rousing from their false dream — 

J like those John addressed — many who are content to rest 

^ in mere outward privileges ; — as if stated attendance on 

, ordinances were enough — the skeleton form without the 

living spirit — church going and church worship severed 

from holiness of heart and lifej Evangelical preaching, 

in these our days, is not only tolerated, but sought, so 

long as it adheres to doctrinal statement, and keeps clear 

of the call to special duties, or the rebuke of special sins. 

But we oftentimes need men in the spirit and power of the 

Baptist, who have the moral courage to stand up in the 

pulpit as the reprovers and denouncers of sins which have 

become fashionable, — glossed over — palliated — excused, — ay, 

to the reality of which, through the deadening influence of 

habit, conscience may have become insensible. 

The Baptist's was no mere indefinite homily about " the 
evil of sin " in general. He spoke pointedly and personally, to 
every class and every individual, of their dominant passion 
or lust, whatever it was. He spoke to the Pharisee of the day 
of his resting in forms. He spoke to the soldier of the day 
of his spirit of insubordination. He spoke to the publican 
of the day of his dishonesty and grasping avarice ; He 
spoke to the court of the clay of their dissoluteness, and to 
the head of that court of his special sin, — ( %Jt is not lawful 
for thee to have her"h Nor was there any ambiguity or in- 



234 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

definiteness employed regarding a state of coming retribu* 
tion. The solemn reality was not mystified, and explained 
away, and blunted by hazy figures of speech — honeyed words. 
It was no shadowy vision that dark futurity. |He gave 
things their right namesW' Wrath to come" " The chaff 
shall he burnt with unquenchable fire !" 

Shall we summon in, this great preacher of the olden time, 
and imagine what 'personal sins he would unmask and con- 
demn among ourselves ? Shall we try to imagine how this 
prophet of the wilderness would speak, were he either to 
enter the sacred enclosures of social life, or stand in the 
streets of our cities, and, with scrutinising gaze, mark their 
eager crowds hurrying along ! What would be the special 
sin or sins his eagle eye would detect, and against which 
his trumpet tongue would declaim ? 

Would it not be our varying phases of intense worldliness ; 
— at one time manifesting itself In public, in the eager, all- 
engrossing scramble in the race for riches, as if money 
were the chief and only good, the old philosopher's summum 
bonum ; — as if gold could dispel care, and solace sorrow, and 
soothe suffering, and bribe death ? Or, this same master sin, 
manifesting itself in another form, in private ; — the feverish 
and absorbing money-chase of the forenoon, only exchanged 
for an endless, exhausting round of artificial excitements tc 
close the day. Family duties guiltily curtailed, and in many 
instances sacrificed, — parental responsibilities neglected, — the 
great " end of being," in this whirlpool of excitement, often 
thoroughly ignored ; — the foot-road to the family altar, or even 
to the closet, covered over and hidden with the rank grass of 
forgetfulness and neglect. tjVhat religion remains is shoved 
?nto the Sabbath-corner^ Mammon, the most exacting of 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF ABAEIM. 235 

charioteers, giving his steeds breath once only in seven days, 
and, ready, as Monday returns, for the fresh run of the 
week ! 

But mistake us not. Be assured, if John were thus to 
speak out his honest convictions, in the midst of us, he would 
combine sagacity with boldness. His would be no mystical 
and unnatural disseverance of man from his work-day world ; 
as if business and religion were antagonistic and incom- 
patible. Do 3^011 not observe, in the narrative of St Luke, 
how he enjoins all the classes that came (just as he would 
enjoin each class among ourselves) to go back to their ordi- 
nary occupations, but only imbued with a new heaven-born 
spirit; seeking that religion should moderate worldly cares, 
engrossments, employments, and enjoyments, and leave its 
sanctifying influence upon all ? 

To the common people he said — " Go back to the world and 
your work, and manifest a spirit of brotherly kindness — ' He 
that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none ; 
and he that hath meat, let him do likewise' " * To the publi- 
cans, he did not say — " Leave your irreligious toll and custom- 
houses — give up your gains at Tiberias and Jericho." No ! 
but " Return home ! Be tax-gatherers still ; but hold the bal- 
ance of truth in your hand. Scorn all that is mean, base, dis- 
honest I ' Exact no more than that which is appointed you' "-f- 
To the soldiers, he did not say — " Leave that horrid trade of 
war ; — throw down your commissions ; — cast sword and scab- 
bard into the depths of Jordan, and live lives of hermit 
seclusion on its banks/' No ; but — " Go forward through the 
Ghor in your present warlike mission against the desert chief 
of Petra. Be brave, and good, and true. Temper your heroic 

* Luke iii. 11. t Luke iii. 13. 



236 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

deeds with mercy to the vanquished ! Set a noble example 
of obedience and subordination to your superior officers. 
'Do violence to no man, neither' accuse any falsely, and be 
content with your wages' " * 

Yes, here is the honest, outspoken boldness of a man of 
God ; and yet one who took broad and noble and generous 
views of existence and its duties. Would that we thus sought 
more thoroughly to incorporate religion with every-day life, 
and have all interfused with the fear and love and favour 
of God. Y^ould that we felt mor., that the grand problem 
which we, as Christians have to solve, is " to be in the world, 
and not of it ;" — that thousands on thousands in our thorough- 
fares would listen to his monitory voice, expressed in the words 
of a kindred spirit — " Love not the world, neither the things 
that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of 
the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the 
lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of 
life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the 
world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth 
the will of God abideth for ever."f 

A second notable element in the character of John is his 
self-denial. 

Weary and sick at heart with the corruptions of the 
times, the Baptist, at or before the age of thirty, just at the 
period of existence when the world — "the pride of life" — ■ 
wears most attractions, retired to the solitude of the desert 
for meditation and prayer, till " the time of his shewing unto 
Israel.' , 

We have no reason to suppose that, like his Lord and 

* Luke iii. 14. + 1 Jolm ii. 15, 16, 17. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF ABARIM. 237 

master, Lis early home was one of poverty. His father was 
a priest of the course of Abia ; and alike from the social 
status of his parents, and from the education he would 
receive as a priest's son, we infer he must have occupied nc 
mean position in Hebron, the probable place of his birth and 
boyhood. But any thoughts regarding mere earthly well- 
being and advancement were, in his own mind, superseded 
and expelled by a higher principle, and the consciousness of 
a nobler mission. He willingly forfeits the prizes which the 
mere natural man would have coveted; — the pride of family — 
the love of the world ; — the distinctions of learning. Assum- 
ing a poor man's garb, he secludes himself among the Judean 
mountains and by the shores of the Jordan, that he might 
attune and tutor his soul for his appointed work. " What 
went ye out for to see ?" says Christ, in the same impassioned 
appeal to which we have already referred. " A man clothed 
in soft raiment ? Behold ! they that wear soft clothing are 
in Icings' houseo!' He was no candidate for earthly honours. 
The sackcloth and the leathern girdle excluded him from 
court life. If he had been the devotee of the world or of 
fashion, he would have clad himself in different attire. But 
he was one of these lofty spirits to whom the world and all 
its tinsel glitter was nothing ; — a star dwelling apart, — shin- 
ing not for itself, but for others, — a grand and rare example 
of self-sacrifice and self-surrender to God. 

Noble pattern, surely, to us in this selfish age and this 
selfish world, is this self-denying man ! Not that the rough 
garb and rude attire, — the uncostly and undainty fare and 
lodging of the desert, are in themselves either proof of self- 
denial, or an example for us to follow. Many a time has a 
proud, selfish, unloving heart lurked under an afifec*-— " 



238 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

either in dress, or living, or unworldliness. Christianity is 
as opposed to all this morbid and vain singularity, as it is to 
ostentation and pride. Let none, therefore, imagine that, 
for the exercise of John's spirit, it requires the monkish 
garb and the hermit's cell — the leathern girdle and the 
meal of locusts and wild honey. All these are but acci- 
dental accompaniments, — no more necessary to self-denial, 
than standing in the corners of the streets would be neces- 
sary to prayer. They were perhaps required in John's case, 
to rouse the slumbering multitudes, and attract attention to 
his great theme. If this burning and shining light had 
come with the silence and stillness of the dawning clay, the 
benighted world might have slept on, disregarding his mes- 
sage ; and therefore he had to flash upon it with the glare of 
the meteor. Moreover, we know, that He who must ever hold 
an infinitely higher place than the Baptist, and yet who 
honoured him and his pure life, — He, the infinitely pure and 
holy One — lived no such hermit existence, and was sus- 
tained on no such ascetic fare ; — " The Son of man came 
eating and drinking" and was on that account falsely stig- 
matised as " a gluttonous man and a wine-bibber ; " and yet, 
in the case of both, — John, the man of the desert, and Jesus, 
mingling in social life, — there was the manifestation, though 
in different phases, of the great principle of self-denial. 
The saying was appropriate in the case of either — "He 
pleased not himself." 

How much room is there, in these our times, for the 
exercise of this noble grace ! How many there are, who 
from year s end to year's end — know not what it is to be 
swayed by its generous impulse ; — whose thoughts, feelings, 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF ABAKIM. 239 

deeds, aspirations, are centred all on self. If they be happy 
and prosperous ; — if their purses be full, — if their business 
thrive, and their families be well provided for, — what care 
they for anything else? The poor are (with them) a sort of 
myth. They can devour books describing fictitious sorrows. 
They can weep over the hard struggle of penury pictured in 
sentimental novels ; but as for clothing an orphan, or helping 
a struggling widow, or denying themselves some luxury or 
comfort, which might easily be spared, that the hungry 
might be fed or the naked be clothed, — they have never 
dreamt of that. If we be Christians indeed, we must mani- 
fest more or less of this spirit of self-denial for the good of 
others ; — this abnegation of self. John by his example, and 
John's Master, alike by His example and His words, have left 
us the sacred command — the solemn legacy — " If any man 
will come after me, let him deny himself." * " See that ye 
abound in this grace also. . . For ye know," — (oh ! match- 
less example of self-denial !) — " ye know the grace of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes 
he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be fich/'-f 

A third element in John's character was his earnestness. 

The phrase is familiar to us all ; — it has passed into a pro- 
verbial saying, — "an earnest ministry." Here was a living 
exemplification of it ; and its earnestness was the secret of 
its power. John (so far as we know) was neither polished* 
nor learned, nor eloquent. Judging from the brief recorded 
specimen of his preaching, he had nothing of the logical 
acumen and intellectual grasp of the great scholar of 
* Matt. xvi. 2-i. t 2 Cor. viii. 9- 



240 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

Gamaliel. His sentences, as we have already said, are 
strong — pointed — vigorous — epigram matical ; — the arrowy 
words of a bold, outspoken man, — no more. 

But, — mightier than all eloquence, and than all the logic and 
learning of the schools, — his winged appeals went forth from 
his inmost heart. The words were those of one who deeply 
felt all he said, — whose every utterance came welling forth 
from the depths of an earnest soul. 

After all, this is what the world, what the Church, 
wants, — a living earnestness. It is the earnest man who 
alone can stand the test, and shall alone be honoured in his 
work. Have we not manifold instances in proof of this in 
our own times ? Look at those places where there has been 
manifested a deep and growing interest in divine things, — 
and where hundreds, before in a state of utter indifference 
and death, have been brought to a knowledge of the truth. 
What is the instrumentality that has been employed? 
Often the very weakest. Ministers of little intellectual 
energy, — devoid of all the arts of oratory, — who can clothe 
their utterance only in the simplest and rudest garb ; — but 
they are men in earnest; — men who have their work at 
heart, — who go to it in the spirit of believing prayer — ani- 
mated by one predominating motive, — love for souls and the 
glory of God. And where there is this earnestness and 
heart-work, it is pleasing to see those of cultivated minds, and 
who may even be called fastidious hearers and worshippers, — 
many among them far superior to their instructors in natural 
and acquired gifts and knowledge of life, — sitting and listening 
with docility to the " simplicity of the truth/' It is the old 
scene witnessed in the Jordan wilderness, — those of strong and 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF ABAEIM. 241 

vigorous intellect — hard-headed men of the world — polished 
Pharisees — subtle Sadducees — soldiers with Eoman blood in 
their veins — officers trained in all court etiquette — wily, 
far-seeing tax-gatherers ; — in one word, hundreds skilled in 
the world's logic, — shrewd, knowing men of business, — - 
coming and sitting at the feet of this half-savage-looking 
hermit — a man all unschooled in worldly art and courtly 
manners and the business of life — and asking him, " What 
shall we do 1 " 

And the same characteristic which gave him access to the 
hearts of the people, opened his way to the heart of the Tetrarch. 
When no other power could have reached the polluted soul 
of Herod Antipas, the earnest truth of the wilderness mes- 
senger enabled him to confront, face to face, the royal de- 
bauchee. He honoured his earnestness, though he hated his 
piety. "Herod heard him gladly!' Why? "because he 
knew that he was a just man and a holy." 

God grant us ever an earnest ministry ! It will be the 
mighty lever for a revival in its noblest sense. Here is the 
grand theme for the prayers of our people, that among 
ministers and students there may be the infusion of "the 
earnest life." It is this alone which will confound the rea- 
soning and surmises of a semi-infidel world. The world is 
keen in scanning motives ; — the world is discerning (severely 
so sometimes,) in estimating character ; and many draw the 
conclusion, (alas ! too often with good reason !) " These men, 
preach as they may, are not in earnest ; — they are only skilful 
players on an instrument. These pulpit orations are shams, 
ideal pictures, not countersigned by the life." Hundreds go 
away from the house of God with the smile on their face, 

Q 



242 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

and Ezeldel's words on their lips, "A h, Lord God, doth 
he not speak parables 1 " * 

One other trait in John's character was his Humility. 

This outshines all the others, and indeed embraces and im- 
plies them all. If ever a man could have risen to power and 
position by his popularity, it was the Baptist. The great 
preacher of the day; the idol of the people; the first to resume 
and renew the long-interrupted voice of the old prophets, 
"All men mused in their hearts whether John were the 
Christ" Others took a more modified view of his preten- 
sions, but still abundantly flattering, if he had been suscep- 
tible of vain-glory. Yielding to the popular belief current at 
that time as to the transmigration of souls, some seemed to 
conjecture (from dim and shadowy intimations in the sacred 
writings) that the soul of Elijah, or of Jeremiah, may have 
reappeared in the person of John. " Art thou Elias ? and he 
said, I am not. Art thou that prophet?" (Jeremiah) "and 
he answered, No." -f 

How many would have been unduly elated by this formal 
mission of delegates sent from the great ecclesiastical council 
of the nation to interrogate him as to his claims to the Mes- 
siahship, — for "the Jews sent priests and Levites from 
Jerusalem to ask him, Who art thou 1 " What a grand op- 
portunity was here for an ambitious impostor, or an elated 
fanatic ! The throne of David might have been, without diffi- 
culty, won for him by these excited crowds ; or, at all events, 
the hermit's brow might have been encircled by the halo of 
homage with which they invested the name and memory of one 
* Ezek. xx 49. t &itto. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF ABAKIM. 243 

of their greatest prophets. But what said this humble man ? 
He repels and rejects the proffered incense. "I am none 
of these ; I am but the feeble echo of a Greater far — the 
pioneer and herald of a Mightier, — ' the voice of one cry- 
in or in the wilderness.' I am not that Lisjht, but am sent 
to bear witness of that Light. The latchet of His shoes 
(the work of the humblest menial) I am not worthy to 
stoop down and unloose." And when the brighter Light, the 
Sun of Eighteousness, had arisen, — when Jesus began to 
baptize in the Jordan, the disciples of John, in a spirit 
of unworthy jealousy, came complaining of the crowds 
that were deserting his standard, and following that of him 
they regarded as a rival. "Rabbi" said they, "he that was 
with thee beyond Jordan, to whom thou barest witness," is 
unfairly superseding thee, — " all men come to him." John 
calmly rebukes the unworthy spirit. Under a beautiful figure, 
he tells them that he is only " the friend of the Bridegroom ; " 
| — not the Bridegroom Himself ; — that his joy is fulfilled 
and complete, by " standing and hearing the Bridegroom's 
voice," — adding, in a beautiful spirit of self-renouncing 
humility, the prophetic words, "He must increase, but I 
must decrease" 

Ah, how unwilling men generally are, thus to take the 
.» hade and make way for another. How unwilling, especially 
(as in John's case) when but in the dawn of aspiring man- 
hood, — when their eye is undimmed, and their natural force 
unabated; — when, with strong arm and vigorous intellect, they 
have been swaying the minds of a generation — whether it be 
m the councils of the state, or the councils of the church, or 
In public citizenship, or even private society, — how unwilling 



244 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

all at once to be set aside and superseded. But so it was 
with this great and good man. As spring melts into the 
tints of full-blown summer ; — as the morning star melts into 
the sky before the brighter radiance of the sun ; — so this lesser 
light, — the morning star of the gospel dispensation, — after 
shedding his mellowed radiance, is content to be " swallowed 
up in the glory that excelleth." This is his comfort under 
the thought of his extinguished lustre, — but he needs no more, 
— " He must increase ! " 

Let us close the chapter with one or two practical lessons 
from this review of the character of the Baptist. 

1st, Learn from his example, what is the great theme and 
object of the ministry. It is the exaltation of Christ ! When 
men, like the people in John's time, are "musing in their 
hearts," — when the soul is open to conviction, sighing to have 
its great unsated longings met, — with what are we to fill that 
heart, and meet these aspirations ? It is not by descants on 
philosophy, — or by homilies on virtue, — but by telling of One 
mightier, who " baptizes with the Holy Ghost and with fire" 
Let the faithful servants of a Greater than John have one 
ambition, one cause of joy, — that Christ their Lord be exalted. 
Let them take as their motto and watchword the ever- 
memorable words with which the Baptist pointed his dis- 
ciples to the great Being approaching them — "Behold the 
Lamb of God ! " — -words probably suggested by the scene and 
circumstances of the spot, — the sheep and lambs passing by 
the fords of the Jordan to the impending passover. As 
such, the reference is interesting and impressive. "Look 
no longer/' says John, " at these bleating types, — look no 
longer on me. I am myself, like these dumb animals, only 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF ABAEDtt. 245 

appointed to prepare the world for a grander Advent. That 
advent so fondly waited for is now accomplished. The 
types may now vanish away. These flocks need no more be 
driven to the city of solemnities. See Him to whom thuy 
have for four thousand years pointed — " Behold the Lamb 
of God, that taheth away the sin of the world ! " 

Learn, 2d, That God's servants must not always look for 
their reward in this world. The faith of many would have 
sunk altogether under the successive reverses experienced by 
the Baptist; — the decline of his popularity, — his own disciples 
and followers grieving his spirit by the manifestation of base 
feelings of envy and jealousy ; — and, worse than all, his own 
brave spirit, burning eager as ever, with desire to glorify his 
great Lord, chafed and buffeted by the tyrant of Galilee ; he 
himself cast, at the age of thirty-four, into a dungeon, and 
made the victim of sanguinary revenge ; — the morning star 
not only quenched by the sun and hid from view, but 
blotted out altogether from the earthly firmament t 

Let God's servants learn from this, not to be dependent either 
on the praise or censure of man, or to look for earthly recom- 
pense. Let them seek to have their record on high ; — to have 
their own motives lofty and pure, so that they may be able 
to say, in the spirit of the great apostle, "It is a small 
thing for me to be judged of you or of man's judgment." 
When their influence is on the wane, be this their comfort, 
that "their decrease is not Christ's decrease"* — that His 
great cause is not perilled on wayward human feeling and 
caprice. The meteor may flash its little moment and then 
die ; but the bright and morning Star is a fixed orb, shining 
far abrve in changeless and undying glory. 

* Foote's Lectm-es on St Luke. 



246 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

Let us learn, 3d, That Christ's servants, often unrecom- 
pensed by men, are not forgotten by their great Master. 

It was when that lonely captive was in his prison among 
the mountains, nigh the shores of the Dead Sea, that his 
Lord uttered that beautiful and touching eulogium on his 
character to which we have more than once adverted. John 
might have appeared to men, at that time, a brittle, broken 
reed ; but the lips of infallible truth said of him, " He is a 
prophet, yea, I say unto you, and more than a prophet^ 
The humble, lowly-minded man may have thought that not 
only his work was closed, but his influence gone. But hear, 
from the lips of his great Lord, how he truly lived. How his 
saintly life was pointed to, for the example and encourage- 
ment of the people of Israel ; ay, and when he died, how 
that heart of more than human love sought "a solitary 
place," that He might mourn the bright and shining Light 
which had been so early extinguished ! May we not further add 
that, on that coming day, when all the inequalities in provi- 
dence shall be adjusted, and all mysteries explained and vindi- 
cated, these same lips of infinite truth and love will be ready 
with the verdict, " Well done, good and faithful servant ; " 
" thou hast been faithful unto death, i" ivillgive thee a crown 
of life." 

From all this, let the lowliest, and humblest, and most 
despised believer take comfort. Unknown and unacknow- 
ledged by men, they are not forgotten by Jesus. A sick-bed, 
a home of sorrow, a season of bereavement or temporal loss,— « 
any one of these, may be to you like the Macherus of John ; 
— the fort where you are shut up with pining heart, — some 
sea of death rolling its gloomy waves around you. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS OF ABAEBI. 24? 

Be comforted ; Christ is thinking upon you. Glorify Him 
by passive suffering and endurance, if unable to do it by 
active labour. " God is not unrighteous to forget your work 
and labour of love." * He will be with you, as with John, 
in life, — appointing all its circumstances and "accidents." 
He will be with you in your hour of trouble, — His loving eye 
will never more lovingly revert to you, than when your soul 
is " in prison/' and the chains of adversity are around you. 
As He spake to the multitude in vindication of His captive 
servant, though at a distance from his place of imprison- 
ment, so will He speak for you, and plead for you, now that 
He is on. His distant throne in the skies ! And when you 
come to die, — though He is no longer visibly present, as He 
was on earth, to stand by your grave, — yet He marks the 
going down of every sun, He appoints the hour of its setting, - 
and "precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of 
His saints." -^ 

And if we would gather yet one other lesson from the 
tomb of this great and good prophet, it is by pointing to the 
example of those who bore him to his last resting-place ; 
indicating, as it did, the true refuge and solace of every 
afflicted one in their season of bereavement. The burial 
scene is over ; the body has been transferred from the bier to 
its rocky vault ; the tearful lament has died into solemn 
silence ; the stone is rolled to the mouth of the cave ; and 
the mourners, with drooping hearts, are wending their way 
along from the hallowed spot. But whither? "The dis- 
ciples took up the body and buried it; and they went 
and told Jesus !" 

* Heb. vi. 10. f Ps. cxvi. 15, 



248 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

Oh, blessed resort in the hour of deepest affliction ! Go, 
child of sadness and desolation ; go, with thy breaking heart, 
with thy aching life-sorrow, too great for utterance or for 
tears — " Go and tell Jesus !" Others may give you a false 
panacea for your grief ; — others may counsel you to go and 
bury your woes in the grave, — to stifle your tears, — to put on 
counterfeit smiles, to hide the yawning chasm in your heart 
of hearts ; — others may tell you to go and feed your grief; — ■ 
to sit in your silent chamber, and mope and pine over your 
blighted happiness in morbid and unavailing sadness. But 
let these mourners over their " loved and lost," teach you a 
nobler philosophy, and dictate a surer ground of comfort and 
solace and strength. Go, and though all others should be 
cold and unpitying and unsympathising, there is One ear, at 
least, that is lovingly open to the story of your tears ; — remem- 
bering that Friend in heaven — " Go and tell Jesus." 

" Sun, where art thou vanish'd ? 

The Night thy reign hath banish' d, — ■ 
Thy ancient foe, the Night. 

Farewell, a brighter glory 

My Jesus sheddeth o'er me ; 
All clear within me shines His light. 

" The last faint beam is going, 

The golden stars are glowing 
In yonder dark-blue deep ; 

And such the glory given, 

When call'd of God to heaven, — ■ 
On earth no more we pine and weep. 

" Now thought and labour ceases, 
For Night the tired releases, 
And bids sweet rest begin : 

My heart, there comes a morrow 
Shall set thee free from sorrow, 
And all the dreary toil of sin." 

—Paul Geehardt, 1653 



xir. 
% Bmx&rt an %oul 



u Ah ! 'tis the world enthrals 
The heav en-betroth' d breast; 
The traitor sense recallsi 
The soaring soul from rest : 
That bitter sigh was all for earth, 
For glories gone, and vanish'd mirth.' 1 



" See here the fruit of wand'ring eyes, 

Of worldly longings to be wise, 
Of passion dwelling on forbidden sweets : 

Ye lawless glances freely rove ; 

Ruin below, and wrath above, 
Are all that now the wild' ring fancy meets." 

— KEEL* 

* Remember Lot's wife." — Lukb xvii. 32. 



SUNSET ON ZOAR 

Here is a gloomy sunset ! — a sun going down, lurid and 
blood-red, in a darkened, troubled sky ; — gilding the moun- 
tain-tops, not with vanishing glory, but converting them 
rather into beacons of portentous warning. Let us obey the 
injunction of Him who " spake as never man spake," whilst, 
with solemn earnestness and attention, we revisit the moul- 
dering ashes of Sodom ; and, as we mark the solitary pillar 
towering on the way to Zoar, let us pause by it, and profit 
by its impressive lessons. 

We need not rehearse the narrative. How God announced 
His resolution to smite down these haughty capitals, whose 
iniquity had risen to the clouds ; — how He acquainted Abra- 
ham with His purpose of vengeance ; — how the importunate 
patriarch wrestled in prayer until ten righteous were not- 
found to avert the doom ; — how the angels were sent to rescue 
Lot and his family ; and early in the morning, the favoured 
group were seen wending their way up the adjoining steeps ; 
— how, when the heights were gained, the Lord, true to His 
promise, showered down the burning torrents, spreading 
conflagration far and wide over hall and palace ! 

Privileged family, to escape so tremendous a fate ! On 
the slope of an adjoining mountain a shelter is prepared. 
One special command alone is addressed to them, — that they 
were not to look back ; but to haste them and flee for their 
lives to the heights of Zoar. " Escape for thy life ; look not 



252 SUNSETS ON 



[E EEEHEW MOUNTAINS. 



behind ihee, neither stay thou in all the plain : escape to 
the mountain, lest thou be consumed." * 

In a hapless moment, the wife of the refugee tampers with 
the mandate. With reverted head, she gazes back on the 
doomed cities. That moment is her last ! She becomes a 
monument of vengeance ; and years afterwards, when the 
waters of the Dead Sea rolled their sluggish tide over the 
buried capitals, — and when the eye of the spectator, in these 
gloomy depths, could catch no relic of perished magnificence ; 
— if he looked to one of the crested heights, he would behold 
a calcined pillar, which in silent eloquence proclaimed — " It 
is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God ! " -f 

Although the wife of Lot lived in an early age, — a stranger 
to countless blessings we enjoy, — yet there were few at that 
period who enjoyed greater. She had been, in every sense, 
highly favoured. Though by birth a heathen, she had been 
affianced to a man of God ! She had traversed many a league 
with the " father of the faithful " himself. She had listened 
to his breathings of faith and holy converse. She had helped 
him often to rear the altar side by side with his tent in 
Canaan, and had bent before it. She had heard him discourse, 
perhaps, of his mightiest honour, as the ancestor of a coming 
Saviour, and had her thoughts turned to Him whose day the 
patriarch " saw atar or£ and was glad/" Ever since she left her 
home in Ur of Mesopotamia, until finally she settled with her 
husband in the city of the plain, she had been " dwelling in a 
tabernacle with Abraham," and was temporally "heir with him 
of the same promise." If she had no other privilege, great 
indeed was this, — to encamp for years under the shadow of this 

* Gen. six. 17. t Heb. x. 31. 



A SUNSET ON ZOAE. 253 

mighty cedar of God ! And when the uncle and nephew, 
owing to the vast increase of their flocks, had to make sepa- 
rate encampments ; — though obliged to forfeit the daily 
society of the pilgrim father, she was not withdrawn from 
the influences and responsibilities of godly companionship. 
Lot, though he had imperilled his own spiritual prospects, by 
a carnal and selfish choice, was yet a child of God. Inspira- 
tion depicts him as " a righteous man." She must oft have 
witnessed his burning tears, and listened to his burning 
words, as, " vexed with the filthy conversation " of his un- 
righteous fellow-citizens, from day to day he warned them 
of the consequences of their " unlawful deeds/' She had 
surely every reason to give prompt obedience to the will of 
God, when she recalled His mercies towards her ; bringing 
her in safety through many strange vicissitudes ; — from being 
in a state of obscurity, elevating herself and her husband to 
opulence ; — the wandering stranger and adventurer from 
Chaldea, now a prince and shepheitHring in the choicest 
Valley of Canaan! That same God had just given her 
another and still more remarkable token of His favour, in 
commissioning His angels to rescue her and her family from 
impending ruin. 

But see, amid so many incentives to faith and obedience, 
how unbelief and worldliness triumphed. She had started 
on her flight. The warning angels had resorted to force to 
pluck the lingerers away ; and we see them climbing, amid 
the gray light of that memorable morning, the footpath 
to Zoar. We could imagine but one feeling of gratitude 
dominant in her bosom. Never ought prisoner, immured 
in some gloomy cell, to have manifested greater thankfulness 



25 4* SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

when his fetters were unbound, and he felt his brow bathed 
once more in the liarht of heaven. 

But " the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately 
wicked ; who can know it ? " She had obeyed with reluc- 
tance the summons. The " brand plucked from the burning " 
reclaimed against the gracious intervention. Her heart was 
in Sodom. She thought of its halls of revelry, its gilded 
mansions, its rich perfumes, its ungodly feasts, its unholy 
citizens. The scoffing language of her degraded sons-in- 
law, had mora influence over her than the guiding angel's 
holy converse and solemn warnings. She must cast a 
lingering eye back on the scenes of her godless festivities, 
and though the express command of God to look not back, 
might well have deterred her, — she would doubtless presume, 
as thousands do still, that He would not be true to His 
threatenings — that He would not keep to His word, — that, 
for the trivial offence of looking behind her on the city of 
her abode, she should not be visited with instant destruc- 
tion. 

The morning sun had risen brightly. No signs of such 
an awful conflagration were visible. Where, in that golden 
sky, was the storm-blast that had been threatened ? She 
might indeed have thought far otherwise. The material 
creation all around might itself have read to her the lesson 
that "the Lord is not slack" concerning His threatenings. 
The vestiges and foot-prints of the deluge were still fresh on 
the outer world. The frowning rocks, which gave such stern 
grandeur to Sodom's valley> had been ">left and marked with 
the rush of diluvian waters. It was no very remote tradition 
that could discourse on the terrors of that scene, when the 



A SUNSET ON ZOAE. 255 

Lord arose in the greatness of His majesty to shake terribly 
the earth ; and if Jehovah had been true to His threatened 
judgments in the one case, might she not have felt that the 
same arm was as " strong to smite " as ever. But she listened 
not ; — the voice of pious relatives, the entreaties of angels, the 
visible judgments of God, were all unheard and disregarded. 
She despised their counsel, arid would none of their re- 
proof ! 

Have none of us to answer for abused privileges and 
rejected warnings ? Are there no Abrahams and Lots and 
augel-messengers of warning and mercy, to witness to our 
disobedience and rejection and unbelief ? Can we think of no 
holy relatives who have bent with us at the altar and baptized 
us with their prayers? Is there no father's counsel, no 
mother's voice, no brother's or sister's tears that come up before 
us in vivid remembrance % What are God's dispensations, 
but angels in disguise? coming to us, as to Lot's household, — in 
the dark night of sorrow thundering at the gates of our souls, 
and saying, "Haste thee; flee for thy life!" Lot, too, (God's 
minister in Sodom) was not silent on that awful crisis. In 
the depth of midnight, he was at the doors of his sons-in-law 
pleading with anxious tears, " Up, get you out of this place ; 
for the Lord will destroy this city ! " So do God's ministers 
still sound the trumpet of alarm — telling that the brimstone- 
cloud is charged, the slumbering volcano ready to break forth, 
and that "it is high time to awake out of sleep!" 

How is their message often received ? Men hear it as Lot's 
sons-in-law listened to his. They thought him an old dotard, 
and his ravings those of a weak alarmist. They scoffed and 
jeered and hooted him; "he seemed to them as one that 



25 G SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

mocked/' The sharp, shrill call, at that midnight hour, rang 
in their ears, "Escape ! escape ! " But all their rejoinder is, 
" What does this babbler say ? On with the dance ! refill 
these golden cups ! eat and drink ; ' to-morrow shall be as to- 
day, and much more abundant.' " 

Times are changed with us ; there may be no open mockings 
of God's servants now, — no disri spectful or infidel spurning 
of their message. There is a hush of decorous silence when, in 
cheir Master's name, however feebly, they deliver their urgent 
appeal. But alas ! with many, is there not the same lurking 
unbelief, the same guilty disobedience, the same lingering 
love of the world and sin ? Do we not appear, in their eyes, 
as the novel-writer, who describes a fictitious scene, or like the 
player who acts an unreal tragedy ? We seem like " one that 
mocks." The real comment of hundreds, as they rise from 
their seats in the house of God, is this, "It is an enthusiast's 
fiction, — a piece of word-painting and word-acting. It is not 
a sober reality. We may accord with the custom of the age, 
and pass a vacant hour listening to what this dreamer saith. 
We may follow him in thought up this pictured path to Zoar; 
we may hear all he has to say when he would attempt to 
overturn the evidence of our senses by telling us that these 
calm skies are yet to be gloomy with thunders, — these smiling 
plains sheeted in flames, — these forests charred into blackness. 
Let the credulous think as they please, he seems to all sober, 
reflective spirits " as one that mocketh ! " 

So thought the philosophic infidels in Sodom of old. But 
one "righteous man," (it may be, in comparison, a child in 
intellect) put the word of his God against all their carnal 
reasonings and theories ; and, like the lonely prophet of a 



A SUNSET ON ZOAE. 2n7 

future age, he rushed through the streets, exclaiming, " Vet a 
few brief hours, and Sodom shall be destroyed ! " 

And was God untrue to His threatenings ? Was Lot the 
lying prophet they imagined him to be ? Were these angels 
some ghosts of this visionary's imagination who had come 
at dead of night to startle them with terror? Perhaps the 
wife of the patriarch was inclined to think so. As she began 
to linger and loiter behind, — and as she saw the sky with- 
out a cloud, — the sun "going forth like a bridegroom, and 
rejoicing as a strong man to run his race ; " — the whole vale 
of Sicldim slumbering in quiet loveliness and repose, — as she 
heard the lowing of the cattle, at that early hour, mingling 
with the matin song of birds ; — as she watched Jordan 
issuing from his gorges, wending his silvery way to water the 
fertile meadows around her home, — she may have begun to 
entertain the thought, that all was a devout delusion, that 
hers was an unworthy, coward flight. Then her days of 
gaiety ; — her haunts of fashion and pleasure and amusement 
and sin, came vividly before her. She listened on the slope 
of the mountain to the hum of the old revelry, — Sodom 
waking up at the summons of the morning. " There can 
be no harm, at all events," she thinks, " in taking a glimpse 
at the loved old halls. Forbidden though it be, it is but a 
little act of disobedience at the best. Moreover, if God had 
been in right earnest, He would have smitten me down long 
ere now. He who has suffered me for years to lead a life of 
gaiety, and sin, and folly, and crime, will surely not visit with 
sudden judgment so trifling a departure from His express 
command." 

She ventured, and perished ! She turned round to indulge 



258 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

in the guilty, because forbidden, look. The rush of darkness 
came over her eyes ; — her blood congealed in her veins ; and 
that column of petrified flesh stands forth an awful earnest 
and premonition of the coming vengeance. 

What an illustration are the conduct and reasoning of 
this infidel woman of those of hundreds amongst us still ! 
— " Because sentence against an evil work is not executed 
speedily; therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set 
in them to do evil."* But the Lord who has kept silence so 
long, will not keep it always. He will, sooner or later, be 
true to His own warning — " He that being often reproved 
hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that 
without remedy." f 

Beware of this same fatal rock, on which multitudes still 
make shipwreck ; — that fatal trust in God's mercy — that 
fatal dis-tvnst of God's word. The inner thought of that 
hapless lingerer, doubtless, was — What! God destroy this 
beautiful Sodom, — the pride of the Canaanites, — the garden 
of the Land of Promise ! What ! reduce these proud towers to 
ashes, and involve all that wealth of flocks and herds in the 
terrible overthrow ! — Impossible ! But has God " said, and 
shall he not do it 1 or hath he spoken, and shall he not make 
it good ? " Yes, the Lord is true to His word. If we go 
at this very day to the banks of the Dead Sea, we find in its 
sullen, bituminous waters, a memorial, which has existed for 
a hundred ages, of the Divine hatred of sin. There is no 
traveller who visits that dreary spot, but is awestruck 
with the scene. The cheerless lake — the dull, leaden pool, 
whose unfathomed caverns are the grave of cities, seems to 

* Eccles. viii. 11. t Pro v. xxix. 1. 



A SUNSET ON ZOAK. 259 

defy vegetation on its banks and life in its waters. No fish 
is sporting there ; — no flower can raise its head on these 
inhospitable shores. Few, if any, birds are seen to wing 
their flight over its sulphurous bosom ; and when they do. 
Ihey hush their notes of joy. The awful stillness of the 
untenanted waste seems ever to be reading the silent 
but emphatic lesson — " God is not a man that he should 
lie!' * 

Let us now proceed to gather one or two of the more pro- 
minent practical lessons which this subject suggests. 

I. Beware of questioning God's commands, whatever they 
may he. 

Sometimes they may be strange and mysterious. He may 
call us to leave our homes of prosperity, our scenes of joy, 
and to climb the mount of trial. Let us feel assured, in the 
apparent blighting of our hopes and prospects, in the destruc- 
tion of our home-joys, there is the deliverance from evils and 
sorrows greater still, which we are unable at the time to see 
or comprehend. " Taken away from the evil to come," — is an 
assurance which has sent a bright ray of hope and consola- 
tion into many a wounded spirit. "Although thou say est 
thou canst not see him, yet judgment is before him ; therefore 
trust thou in him." •)* Be it ours to ask, in simple faith, " Lord, 
what wouldst thou have me to do ?" and to say — u Though he 
slay me, yet will I trust in him\"% In our saddest and 
sorest seasons of calamity, He will send His ministering 
angels of comfort to solace and support our smitten hearts, 
and guide us, though by a rugged path, away from the 
* Num. xxiii. 19. f Job sxsv. 14. % Job xiii. 15. 



260 SUBSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

empty frivolities and sins of a poor Sodom-world, to tlio 
gates of the true Zoar of peace and joy. 

II. Beware of worldly entanglements. 

How many there are who, like Lot's wife, have apparently 
set out to the Zoar of safety, yet who linger and perish in the 
plain ! They hear the terrors of the law ; — they are roused 
by the tidings of the coming conflagration. They think of 
fleeing, — they have actually set out ; but the world they have 
left has too many attractions and fascinations. Demas-like, 
they give the preference to these, — they look back to Sodom 
and perish. 

Beware of yielding to temptation ! See what a look may 
do ! " If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out and cast 
it from thee." In the Greek Church, at baptism, the finger 
of the priest is laid on the eye, and the sign of the cross 
made on that organ to shew that it is to be turned from evil, 
and so to be " single ". and " full of light/' Eemember how 
in any bitter tears one sinful look cost David ; and how for 
that look and its consequences, " the sword never departed 
from his house." 

See how sin always begins by little and little. The 
wife of Lot began first to doubt; then to fall behind her 
companions, and lose the benefit of their encourage 
ment and counsel. She was left a prey to her own evil 
thoughts. Like Peter, the loiterer "followed afar off." 
Like Peter, she fell • but, unlike Peter, she had no space 
to weep. 

III. Beware of the abuse of privilege. 



A SUNSET ON ZOAE. 261 

It was tlie awful aggravation of the sin of this ill-fated 
woman, that she transgressed just when God had made bare 
His arm on her behalf ; — when He had sent His angels to 
warn her and conduct her to a place of safety ; — ay, when she 
was actually on her way to Zoar, — when Zoar's gate of shelter 
was gleaming in her view. She had been roused at mid- 
night, — she had got out of reach of the importunities and 
jeers of her evil companions, — she had gained the brow of 
the hill, and was apparently all safe ; — she had been rescued 
from the idolatries of Chaldea, the superstitions of Egypt, — 
she had been plucked from the kindled fires of Sodom, and yet 
she perished notwithstanding ! Sad it was, in olden time, for 
the transgressor to be cut down by the sword of the avenger, 
when on the very threshold of his refuge city. Sad it is to 
read the narrative of the great African traveller, who, after a 
thousand hairbreadth escapes in inhospitable deserts, fell a 
victim to an accident in his English home. Sad it is to 
hear of the vessel that had braved battle and breeze ; — that 
had buffeted many angry waves and a thousand leagues of 
ocean, — wrecked and stranded when the home-harbour is in 
sight, and friends are standing on the pier giving the wave 
of welcome ! 

But sadder than all is it, to see a soul that had set 
out on a fair way for heaven ; that had cleared the temp- 
tations of j T outh ; got quit of worldly entanglements ; got 
out of Sodom and on its way to Zoar, — yet perishing with 
salvation in sight ! " Remember Lot's wife ! " Oh, " take 
heed lest ye also, being led away with the error of the 
niched, fall from your own steadfastness." * 
* 2 Pet. iii. 17. 



262 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

IV. Beivare of Christian inconsistency. 

There is a lesson to those who are like Lot, as well as 
those who are like his unhappy partner. 

It is said even of him, that " he lingered." Child of God 
as he was, even he was wrenched with a reluctant heart from 
his Sodom home, — even he seemed to stagger through un- 
belief, as the angels importuned him to depart. As he after- 
wards learned with a bitter heart of that pillar-monument of 
vengeance, or saw it from his refuge-city, might he not 
reproach himself with the thought — " Alas ! may not my 
lingering have emboldened her in her presumption, — con- 
firmed her in disobedience ? May not the responsibility of 
that doom rest much with me ? She saw me undecided, — she 
saw me, with reluctant step and misgiving heart, loitering on 
my threshold. May I not have furnished an excuse for that 
bold, presumptuous, fatal look?" 

Beware of the power of evil example — Christian incon- 
sistency. Beware, lest by our languid frames, our uneven 
walk, our guilty misgivings, our worldly conformity, we 
foster unbelief in the hearts of others. Parents ! Masters ! 
Ministers ! Christians ! — seek a high-toned consistency ! For 
this end be ever watchful. " Look to yourselves ! " Lot 
(the righteous Lot) was "scarcely saved/' He was saved, 
"yet so as by fire! 3 But for God's angels, he would have 
perished like the rest. " Remember Lot's wife/' and trem- 
ble! Remember Lot, and tremble, too ! Read, on the arch- 
way leading into Zoar, "Let him that thinketh he standeih 
take heed lest he fall.''' "If any man draw back, my soul 
shall have no pleasure in him." * 

* Heb. x. 38. 



A SUNSET ON ZOAE. 263 

V. Once more, — beware af delay. 

" Haste thee ! " every day — every hour is precious ; — • 
make the most of the golden moments. If God have now 
sent His ministering angels to thee, whatever these may be, 
though they should be the sable messengers of sorrow and 
bereavement, listen to their call ! Up, and prepare for the 
journey ; go with the determination of those who feel that 
life or death is involved in its issues. " Work out your oivn 
salvation with fear and trembling." The salvation is all 
God's giving — the Zoar of refuge is God's providing. But, 
if you would reach it, you must set out, with staff in hand, 
like men in earnest, and " stay not in all the plain/' The 
angels could have wafted Lot and his family on their wings 
through the air ; or they might have reared some fire-proof 
pavilion in the midst of the city, like another Rahab's house 
in Jericho, which would have remained unscathed amid the 
tremendous conflagration. But the command to Lot, as to 
us, is, " Haste thee, flee ! tarry not, escape ! " The angels 
brought them outside the gates, and then left them to pur- 
sue the appointed path- 

The gospel is a beautiful combination of simple faith 
with earnest working ; — a simple dependence on Christ, and 
yet the diligent use of means. Its command is, " Run with 
patience the race set before you, looking unto Jesus." " The 
night is far spent, the day is at hand." " Of the times 
and of the seasons, brethren, ye have no need that I write 
unto you. For the day of the Lord so cometh as a thief in 
the night. For ivhen they shall say, Peace and safety, then 
sudden destruction cometh." " Sudden ! " yes, " sudden ! " 
— " Remember Lot's wife ! " What must have been the 



264 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

feeling of this woman, as, in the twinkling of an eye, she felt 
every limb hardening — her body incrnsted with the briny 
shroud, a winding-sheet of salt ! No sculptor's chisel ever so 
depicted the horror of despair, as in the rayless eyes of that 
cold statue on the heights of Siddim. 

And what shall be thy feelings, careless, negligent pro- 
erastinator, despiser of warning, rejecter of grace, — when, all 
unmeet and unready, the icy hand of death shall fix thee for 
ever, and the irrevocable sentence go forth, " Him that is 
fdthy, let him be filthy still ! " 

Up then, tarry not ! lost or saved, — heaven or hell, — are 
the awful, the momentous alternatives ! " As thy soul liveth, 
verily there may be but a step between thee and death" 
With all our abounding privileges, in this age of gospel light 
and gospel blessing, may we not — remembering how Lot's 
wife perished despising angelic warning — may we not well 
conclude with the cogent appeal of the great Apostle, "If 
the word spoken by angels was steadfast, and every trans- 
gression and disobedience received a just recompence of 
reward ; how shall WE escape, if we neglect SO gbeat 
SALTATIO^r' 



XV. 

Bmxtttt on fflomtt Cakr. 



" Wake not, motlier, sounds of lamentation I 
Weep not, widow, weep not hopelessly I 
Strong is His arm, the Bringer of Salvation, 
Strong is the Word of God to succour thee ! 

u Bear forth the cold corpse, slowly, slowly bear him, 
Hide his pale features with the sable pall : 
Chide not the sad one wildly weeping near him; 
Widow'd and childless, she has lost her all ! 



* lone one, change thy grief to exultation, 
Worship and fall before Messiah's knee : 
Strong is His arm, the Bringer of Salvation ; 
Strong is the Word of God to succour thee ! ** 

— Heber. 

And it came to pass the day after, that he went into a city called Nain" ; 
and many of his disciples went with him, and much people. Now, when 
he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man car- 
ried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow : and much 
people of the city was with her. And when the Lord saw her, he had 
compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not. And he came and 
touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still. And he said, 
Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.- And he that was dead sat up, and 
began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother. And there came 
a fear on all : and they glorified God, saying, That a great prophet is 
risen up among us; and, That God hath visited hi3 people." — Luke 
vii. 11-16. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT TABOR 

Dn one of the declivities of Mount Tabor, in the great plain 
Di Esdraeloii — the golden granary of Palestine, and the 
battle-field of the older Hebrew history — the traveller still 
discovers the ruins of the city of Natn. It is invested with 
imperishable interest from the one solitary but touching 
event with which its name is associated in gospel story. 

On the day after the cure had been performed on the cen- 
turion's servant, Jesus and His disciples, along with " much 
people/' took this journey of twelve miles from the city of 
Capernaum ; and as the shadows of evening were beginning 
to fall, they found themselves approaching the village by its 
one entrance on the slopes of the wooded mountain. Jewish 
cemeteries were always situated outside the walls of their 
towns, and the time of burial was at sunset. The bier was 
carried on the shoulders, with the face exposed, till they came 
to the place of sepulture. Here the lid was nailed on the 
coffin, and the obsequies were completed. 

Funerals, to the least impressible, are affecting spectacles. 
None can fail to be solemnised as the mournful procession 
wends along the highway, or the street of the crowded city. 
But we often think, how little unconscious wayfarers can 
gauge the unknown depths of many such sorrows, or measure 
the yawning chasms in the hearts cf those who are thus, in 
dumb and pensive silence, passing by. 

The words of the sacred narrative touchingly describe to 



268 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

us such a burial scene. A funeral was seen emerging from 
the gate of Nain as the sun was setting. Bitter sobs and 
heart-rending weeping from the midst of the crowd, arrest 
the ear of Him whose mission it was to heal the broken- 
hearted. There was everything to aggravate the pangs of 
that lacerated heart, and make it to her the sorest of trials. 
The whole village had turned out to sympathise with her. 
" Much people of the city was with her." But, in the deep 
agony of her grief, she stood alone. These tears of hers were 
not of yesterday. She could once tell of a happy home ! 
The world to her had once been all sunshine, its future stored 
with happiness. The richness and exuberance of outer na- 
ture in her Hebrew hamlet, its summer fruits and purple 
clusters, had its reflection and counterpart in her own joyous 
heart — itself a garner of cherished blessings. But her first, and 
as she supposed, her most desolating blow came ! The smile 
of joy was all at once exchanged for the tear of bereavement. 
The desire of her eyes was taken away with a stroke. A 
thousand fond hopes and cherished schemes vanished in the 
twinkling of an eye, and were buried in that grave. She 
was left solitary, to toil on her pilgrimage path — " she was a 
widow." 

But in seasons of saddest trial, God often gives support- 
ing solaces. When His children have to sing of "judgment," 
they can often sing of " mercy w too * This poor woman's 
lot was hard indeed. But amid her fast-flowing tears, 
there was one object still surviving, around whom her 
heart-strings were fondly entwined. The partner of her 
joys was gone ; but he had left behind him a sacred legacy 
* Ps. ci. 1. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT TABOE. 269 

of affection ! One little child remained, to cheer the lonely 
hearth of the widowed parent. Often, doubtless, did she 
clasp the treasured gift to her bosom ; and as she dropped 
the silent tear over his cradle, or watched the innocent glee 
of childhood, as he played by her side, would she love to 
trace in his countenance the image of him who was not ! If 
the past was bitter, the future would have been darker, 
sadder still, but for this precious link that still bound her to 
life. Oft, in her solitary moments, would she weave visions 
of happiness around the coming years of her boy, saying, 
with Lamech, " This same shall comfort us." In him every 
ulterior plan is wrapped up and concentrated ; and the last 
thought, associated with life's close, is that of his hands 
closing her eyes, performing to her the final offices of 
affection, and bearing her to " the house appointed for all 
living." 

Ah ! how often are we brought to learn that our chiefest 
blessings may be taken away just when we most need them ! 
When was Jonah's gourd smitten and withered ? not when 
the evening breeze was fanning his brow, but " in the morn- 
ing when the sun rose" and the suffocating heat beat on his 
fevered head ! When was Lazarus of Bethany taken away ? 
just when his sisters — when his Lord — when the Church — 
seemed as if they could least spare him ! 

One day, a sudden sickness prostrates the widow's son on 
a couch of languishing. There may have seemed at first no 
cause for anxiety. It is . but a passing cloud ; — no gloomy 
vision of anticipated evil dare cross for a moment that doat- 
ing heart. Soon the young pulse and buoyant frame will be 
vigorous as ever. 



270 SUNSETS ON THE HEBBEW MOUNTAINS. 

Alas ! the tale is soon told ; — that house is darkened with 
the shadows of death ; — the last glimmering light, in that 
desolate heart and dwelling, is put out. He, who had just 
risen to the pride of manhood, and who, we may infer from 
the crowds which followed him to the grave, was all that a 
fond parent could wish him to be, lies lifeless in his chamber ; 
— his sun has " gone down while it is yet day/' . 

"We can imagine (though we cannot attempt to describe) the 
succession of bitter hours the bereaved mother must have 
spent, previous to the time at which the sacred narrative reveals 
her first to view at the gate of her native town ; — the sorrow- 
ful night- watchings by the tossed and sleepless couch ; — the 
dread anxieties of suspense vibrating alternately between hope 
and fear ; — the glad symptoms of revival ; but these again, 
only succeeded by the too faithful monitors of approaching 
dissolution. And then, when all was over ; — when left to her- 
self to brood over the dream of bygone bliss, and the wrecks 
of her happiness scattered around her, — realising the bitterness 
of that which, in her land, and in all hearts, has passed into a 
proverb — the loss of " an only son." Whilst the sympathy 
of neighbours and friends, each having some kindly word to 
speak of her boy, unsealed the well-springs of her affection 
anew, and brought fresh warm tear-drops to her cheek. 

And now, the tramp of the mournful crowd is heard pacing 
along the streets ! In another brief hour, she will have to 
retrace her steps to a swept household, leaving the prop of 
her earthly existence laid low amid the clods of the valley. 

They have reached the gate of the city ; — they have crossed 
its threshold. The gloomy walls of the cemetery may be 
already in view. But the Lord of life, and the Abolisher 



SUNSET ON MOUNT TABOR. 271 

of death is approaching There was only one in the wide 
world who could dry that widow's tears, and give her back 
her " loved and lost." That one is in sight ! 

A multitude are seen approaching from the opposite 
direction. To all appearance, it is but a motley crowd of 
wayfarers coming along the Capernaum highway, weary and 
worn and dust-covered, after the heat of a sultry summer's 
day. But, in the midst of them, there is a voice which can 
speak in tones of mingled authority and tenderness, — "Leave 
thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive ; and let 
thy widows trust in me." 

Jesus approaches ! He needed no interpreter of the scene 
of sorrow — no messenger to carry the tidings of the loss sus- 
tained by that mother in Israel. " He needed not that any 
should testify of man, for he knew what was in man." Ere 
He left, that morning, the shores of Gennesaret, well He knew, 
as the omniscient God, all the peculiarities in that case of 
sore trial. He had marked every throb of that breaking 
heart. ^He had predetermined and prearranged the appa- 
rently accidental meeting at the village gateS And now, at 
the appointed moment, the dead man is borne on his bier, as 
the Lord of the dead and the living draws nigh. 

We need not dwell on the sequel. In other cases, the 
Saviour's intervention and healing power are importunately 
solicited. There is a singular exception in the present in- 
stance. No voice pleads with Him to perform the miracle. 
The crowd are silent. The mourning widow is too deeply 
absorbed in her own grief to observe the presence of the 
Prophet of Nazareth. Besides, notwithstanding His other 
miraculous deeds, He had never yet raised the dead ; so that 



272 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS, 

even if she had known, or perhaps personally witnessed His 
ability to heal the sick and cure the diseased, she would 
never imagine He had power to reverse the irrevocable sen- 
tence, and unlock those gates of Hades, which, for nine hun- 
dred years (since the time of Elisha) had been closed to all 
miracle. 

f Without parade or ostentation, the divine Eedeemer enters ^ 
amid the crowd. But observe, it is to whisper, in the first 
instance, in the ear which most needed it, the balm-word of 
comfort, " Weep not." And even when the word of power 
is about to be uttered (that word which is to summon back a 
soul from the spirit-land) all is done in unobtrusive silence : 
in silence He touches the bier ; — in silence He beckons to 
the bearers to stand still ; and, as the two meeting crowds 
have now mingled into one,— amid the same hush of impres- 
sive silence, He sounds the omnipotent summons over the 
sheeted dead, — " Young man, arise ! " Life's pulses begin 
again mysteriously to beat — well-known tones again meet a 
mother's ears. Oh, who would mar the touching simplicity 
of the inspired narrative, by endeavouring to depict the 
burning tears of wonder, and love, and praise, which roll 
down these wasted, furrowed cheeks, as, in the simple words > 
^ of the text, " they delivered him to his mother I " 

We have heard of the joy occasioned by the sudden ap- 
pearance of the sailor-boy in his native cottage, many a long 
year after she who had loved him best had thought of nothing 
but of her child in a watery grave, the wrecks of his vessel 
tossed on distant shores. We have heard of the soldier 
returning to his long-lost home, when his children were wont 
to talk of their father's grave in the far East, with the palm- 



SUNSET ON MOUNT TABOE. 273 

trees and rank grass waving above it ; and we may imagine 
the joy when the sad dream of years was reversed, and he 
stood alive before them, locking them by turns in his em- 
brace. What must have been the joy of this Hebrew mother, 
when the new lease of a prized existence was granted by a 
gracious Saviour ; and, as she returned, holding that hand 
she had never thought to clasp again on earth, exclaiming — ■ 
" This my son was dead, and is alive again ; he was lost, 
and is found ! " 

Let us gather a few practical truths and reflections from 
ihis suggestive narrative. 

I. V^e have here an attestation to the Saviours divinity. 

We have other examples in Scripture of individuals raised 
from the dead. We have Elijah, at Sarepta, raising another 
widow's son ; — Elisha raising the son of the Shunamite ; — 
Peter raising the young woman, Tabitha. But all these cases 
were effected permissiveiy, by mere delegated power. These 
holy men stormed death in his iron stronghold ; but it was not 
with their own weapons. Their language was either " Thus 
saith the Lord," or else, " In the name of Jesus Christ of 
Nazareth." * They ever disowned and repudiated the thought 
of any inherent ability over life, — any usurpation of the 
Divine prerogative. They acted only as servants. But here, 
there is no acknowledgment of derivative power. " As a son 
over His own house," Christ gives forth the mandate of un- 
controlled Omnipotence, " Young man, I say unto thee." 

blessed assurance ! that that Being to whom I owe 
every blessing I enjoy; — every hope for time and for eternity, 

* Acts iii. 6. 
S 



274 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

• — who was nailed for me on the bitter cross, and for me, closed 
His eyes.in a sleep of death, — that He had infinite Godhead in 
mysterious union with suffering, sorrowing, woe- worn, death- 
stricken humanity ; and, now that He is upon the throne, 
and "all power is committed to Him both in heaven and 
in earth/' that nothing can resist His commands, nothing 
baffle His behests and purposes. There is no evil but His 
power can ward off, — there is no calamity but He can avert, if 
He pleases. The " I say unto you," He uttered over the bier 
at Nain, is His omnific formula FOE all times and AT all times. 
" He speaks, and it is done! " 

II. Let us learn the tenderness and compassion of Christ 
as Man. 

It is striking to observe in the more prominent events of 
our Lord's public ministry, how the manifestations of His 
Manhood and Godhead go together. There is generally a 
joint exhibition of majesty and tenderness ; proclaiming that, 
while He is God, He is yet " a brother" — while a brother, 
He is yet " God." 

It is the case here. We have just marked the uumis- 
takeable proofs, that He w T ho arrests that weeping crowd is 
indeed Divine ! Omniscience brought Him there ; — the act 
of omnipotence demonstrates His deity in the eyes of the 
beholders. 

But He is more than this. His look of compassion — His 
tear of sympathy — proclaim that, in that same bosom where 
resides the might of Godhead, there beats also all the ten- 
derness of human affection. Observe, it was the sight of 
woe (the contemplation of human misery) which stirred to 



SUNSET ON MOUNT TABOE. 275 

its depths that Heart of hearts. It would seem as if He 
could not look on human grief without that grief becoming 
His own. In the similar case of Lazarus, it was not the 
bitter thought of a lost and dead friend, which unsealed the 
fountain of His own tears. This it could not be ; for, four 
days previously, He had spoken, in calm composure, of that 
departure ; and when He stood in the graveyard, He knew 
that, in a few moments, the victim of death would have his 
eyes rekindled with living lustre. At Bethany, (as here at 
Nain,) it was simply the spectacle of human suffering that 
made its irresistible appeal to His emotional nature. The 
Rod of human compassion touched the Rock of- Ages, and 
the streams of tenderness gushed forth. " When Jesus saw 
Mary weeping, and the Jews weeping which came with her, 
. . . .(Jesus weptJJ * "When the Lord saw" this poor 
widow "He had compassion on her." He hears her bitter, 
heart-rending weeping in the midst of the mourners ; and, 
as we already noted — for it is worthy of observation — utters 
the soothing, sympathetic word, before He utters the Godlike 
mandate. 

Nor should we overlook the fact, that it was but a word 
He uttered. This reveals an exquisite and touching feature 
in the Saviour's humanity, #t attests how intensely delicate 
and sensitive, as well as true, that humanity wasj When we 
meet a mourner, after a severe trial, we shrink from the meet- 
ing ; glad, perhaps, when the sad and dreaded call of courtesy 
is over. There is a studied reserve in making a reference to 
the blank ; — or, if that reference is made, it is short — in a 
passing word. The press of the hand often expresses what 
* John ii. 33-35. 



276 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

the lips shrink from uttering. In that touching picture we 
have of patriarchal grief, Job's friends and mourners sat for 
seven days at his side, and not a syllable was spoken* It 
was so here with Jesus. He (even He) does not intrude 
with a long utterance of sympathy. There is no lengthened 
and commonplace condolence. {With a tear in His eye, and 
a suppressed sob, all He says is, " Weep not?\ 

It was the same, afterwards, with Mary at Bethany. 
There was not even the one word; — nothing but the signifi- 
cant TEAE8. 

Behold, then, the beautiful and touching sympathy of a 
fellow-mourner — "the Brother born for adversity." " When 
the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her /" We have 
seen that that weeping, forlorn woman, had no lack of other 
sorrowing friends. Her case seemed to be matter of noto- 
riety. Many went out to mingle their tears with hers. But 
the sympathy of all these could only go a certain way. They 
could not be expected to enter into the peculiarities of her 
woe. Human sympathy is, at best, imperfect ; sometimes 
selfish, always finite and temporary. Not so the sympathy 
of Him who had just joined the funeral procession. He 
could sa} 7- , as none else can, "I know your sorrows." j° The 
sympathy of the kindest friend on earth knows a limit, — ■ 
Jesus' sympathy knows none. Who knows but, in that 
gentle utterance of tender feeling, and in the deep compas- 
sion which dictated it, the Son of Man, the Virgin-born, may 
have had in view another " Mother," whose hour of similar 
bereavement was now at hand ; when His own death was to 
be "the sword" which was to "pierce her soul." { " Weep 

* Bradley's Sermons. + Exod. iii. 7. X Luke ii. 



SUNSET ON MOUNT TAEOE. 277 

not ; " — that is often an unkind arrest put by man on the 
sacredness of human sorrow, as if it were unworthy to weep 
tears which Christ wept before us. But He (the Great 
Saviour) who came to dry more fearful floods of sorrow, 
could, in His compassionate tenderness, speak His own 
calming word. That hour was a presage and foreshadow 
of a happier time, when, in a sorrowless world/' God shall 
wipe away all tears from off all faces." \ 

Oh that in all our seasons of trial, we could appropriate 
this fellow-feeling of the Prince of Sufferers ; — that divine 
compassion, in comparison with which, the tenderest and best 
human sympathy is but as dust in the balance ! Whatever 
be your present experiences of sorrow, — loss of health, — loss 
of wealth, — the unkindness or treachery of trusted friends, — 
remember, the Saviour and sympathiser of Nain, is still the 
same ! He had compassion — He has compassion still. He 
who stopped the bier, on that summer's night, in the plains 
of Jezreel, still lives, and loves, and supports, and pities ; 
and will continue to pity, until pity be no longer needed, in 
a world of light and love, — of purity and peace. 

III. Let us, from this, as from other similar narratives, 
recall sin as the cause of death. It is sin which has caused 
weeping eyes, funeral processions, widowed and bereft 
hearts. 

There is a sadder death than the death of the body ; — there 
is a deeper compassion, which this Saviour of love feels over 
lost soids. He is ever stooping over His world, and marking 
this one and that one — borne on to their spiritual grave — 
' dead in trespasses and sins/' He is standing, even now 



278 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

at the gate of the heavenly city, as He did of old at the 
gate of Nam, calling upon such, — "Awake thou that sleepest, 
and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee life" 
" I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in 
me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." His ministers, 
His ambassadors, are called to fulfil a mission to the dead, — 
" He said unto me," said Ezekiel, " Prophesy upon these dry 
bones, and say unto them, ye dry bones, hear the word of 
the Lord /" Eemember, His calling time, and your awaking 
time, shall soon be past. In the might of the great Eestorer, 
then, rise from your bier of sin, and walk in newness of life ; 
< — so that when the hour of resurrection overtakes you, and, 
with the buried millions of the globe, you shall " hear the 
voice of the Son of God," it may be with joy to obey the 
summons, "Awake and sing, ye that dwell in dust." 

IV. The narrative before us is full of comfort to the tried 
and bereaved. 

" Weep not ! " He does not mean, by uttering that word, 
to put an unkind arrest on tears ; — He seems by it rather to 
say — " Do not shed tears by mistake. If you knew all the 
design and purpose I have in that bitter sorrow — that aching 
trial — you would chase these tears away. Give expression to 
no hasty surmises with regard to my doings." 

Look at the scene here described. We read that those 
present at the funeral — the attendant crowd of mourners 
and spectators — "glorified God." Ay, and could we rend 
these heavens and ascend up amid the heavenly worshippers, 
— who knows but perchance we might see there two glori- 
fied forms bending over the memories of that sunset hour 



SUNSET ON MOUNT TABOR. 270 

at Nain ; — the Widow and her Son, — telling, with tearless 
eyes, that it was that death-scene which had led them to 
their thrones and crowns ! 

God is ever saying to us, " Trust me in the dark ; " — there 
shall yet be a revelation of mercy and love in these mysterious 
trials ! That " Weep not " of Nain, was intended to carry 
its message of solace and comfort to the myriad hearts of all 
time, crushed with their ever-varying sorrows ; — and more 
especially to those bearing their most cherished treasures to 
the custody of the tomb. He would proclaim to us, even 
now, that He has " power over death ; " — that the King of 
terrors must own the sceptre of the King of kings. He pre- 
pares His whole Church, in this miracle, for singing the pro- 
phetic song — " death, where is thy sting 1 } grave, where 
is thy victory ? " He gives to the world a pledge of the 
summons which will one day be addressed to its slumbering 
myriads — " Arise !" when " all that are in their graves shall 
hear His voice and shall come forth." 

Nor, once more, is the simple statement here made with 
reference to the young man, without its inferential meaning, 
" He delivered him to his mother." 

Jesus rested not with the mere summons to life ; nor with 
beholding the young man raising himself up on his bier, 
and giving utterance to articulate sounds ; but He takes him 
by the hand, and places it in that of his rejoicing parent ! 
His first act, on raising him, is to restore him to the heart 
that mourned him, and to permit them to resume together 
their old joyous intercourse. 

It is indeed a mere inference, or reflection, suggested by 
the passage, but borne out by many more decided Scripture 



280 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

references. May it not, however, lead us to cherish the 
: oyful and delightful prospect, at the resurrection, of a re- 
union with those we have loved ; that those tender affections, 
nurtured and hallowed on earth, shall only be for a time 
interrupted by death, to be resumed in better and brighter 
worlds, — where the pang of bereavement, and orphanage, and 
widowhood, shall no longer be either felt or feared ! The 
great " Aeise ! " which shall startle the sleeping dead, (the 
sleepers in Jesus,) shall be followed by personal recognitions, 
sacred reunions, — the old smiles of earth lighting up the 
countenance, — the voice, with its old familiar tones, tuned 
and prepared for nobler services and loftier songs ! 

Meanwhile, let the bereaved and sorrowful bow with a calm 
unmurmuring submission to the will of God ; — rejoicing in 
the present possession of the compassion of Jesus, and look- 
ing forward, with triumphant hearts, to that cloudless morning 
when " the sun " of earthly prosperity shall " no more go 
down, neither shall the ^moon ivithdraw itself; " — but when 
(reunited to death-divided friends, and with no tear to dim 
their eyes) " the Lord shall be their everlasting light, and 
the days of their mourning shall be ended." 

" Though not yet 



The dead sit up arid speak, 
Answering its call ; we gladlier rest 
Our darlings on earth's quiet breast, 
And our hearts feel they must not break. 

" Far better they should sleep awhile 
Within the church's shade ; 
Nor wake until new heaven, new earth, 
Meet for their new immortal birth, 
For their abiding place be made j 



SUNSET ON MOUNT TABOR. 281 

r Than wander back to life, and lean 
On our frail love once more. 
'Tis sweet, as year by year we lose 
Friends out of sight, in faith to muse 
How grows in Paradise our store. 

1 Then pass, ye mourners, cheerly on, 
Through prayer unto the tomb ; 
Still, as ye watch life's falling leaf, 
Gathering from every loss and grief 
Hope of new spring and endless home.* 



XVI. 



** Bound upon the accursed tree, 
Faint and bleeding, who is Ho? 
By the eyes so pale and dim, 
Streaming blood and writhing limfy 
By the flesh with scourges torn, 
By the crown of twisted thorn, 
By the side so deeply pierced, 
By the baffled burning thirst, 
By the drooping death-dew'd brow, 
Son of Man, 'tis Thou ! 'tis Thou ! " 

— MiLamr. 

" Thou noble countenance ! 

All earthly suns are pale 
Before the brightness of that glance, 

At which a world shall quail ; 

How is it quench'd and gone ! 

Those gracious eyes grow dim ! 
Whence grew that cheek so pale and wan? 

Who dared to scoff at Him ? 

" All lovely hues of life, 
That glow'd on lip and cheek, 
Have vanish'd in that awful strife 5 
The Mighty One is weak. 
Pale Death has won the day, 
He triumphs in this hour, 
When strength and beauty fade away, 
And yield them to his power." 

— Paul Gerhardt. 

"When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, he said, It is finished: 
and he bowed bin head, and gave up the ghost." — John xix. 30. 



THE GREAT SUNSET. 

We have been contemplating, in the preceding pages, the 
death-scenes of Scripture worthies, whose names are, in most 
cases, illustrious in sacred story. 

One other yet remains. 

If we have been watching, with interest, some noble " suns " 
in the world's old firmament hasting to their setting, — going 
down in their western horizon amid bars of purple and gold, 
— what shall we say of the Great Sunset? — with what 
feelings shall we surround the awful death-couch, and watch 
the dying countenance, of the incarnate Son of God \ 

We have seen, in the case of the others, their influence 
surviving dissolution, — the rays of these glorious luminaries 
lingering on the world's mountain-tops, — so that it could be 
said of this and that one — " He, being dead, yet speaketh." 
But lo ! at the setting of the Sun of Righteousness, the 
universe itself seems to catch the glory. Not a few solitary 
mountain-peaks, but the whole world, is bathed in the light 
of His dying radiance. It sprinkles the everlasting hills. 
It gilds and glorifies the very throne of God. 

If we have stood, with bated breath, around some of 
these death-couches of patriarchs, and prophets, and kings, 
to listen to their last utterances, — nay, if we treasure, with 
unutterable solemnity, the parting words of loved ones of 
our own family or acquaintance, — with what feelings shall 
we gather abound the Cross of Jesus, and hear His dying 



284 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

cry ? Every incident in His life of marvel — every utterance 
of His heart of love — is priceless. But full of peculiar 
solemnity, surely, must be that last saying which fell from 
His lips, when His eyes were about to close in their sleep 
of death. It was the moment of all moments ! — the golden 
link which connected the past and the future, — the bright 
focus-point to which all history, type, vision, prophecy, con- 
verged. 

And what was that declaration? It consisted of but 
one wcrd, (though rendered by three words in our English 
version.) That word was the commencement of endless, un- 
dying echoes — "Finished !" "He said, It is finished : and 
He bowed His head and gave up the ghost ! " 

Let us feebly attempt to picture to ourselves the scene 
when that word was uttered. It had been darkness over all 
the land till now. But the light again shines; — the pall 
is removed; — the sackclothed sun disrobes himself of his 
mourning, and again discloses the spectacle which the super- 
natural gloom had hidden. What a spectacle was that ! — 
the sinless, spotless Jesus, transfixed, in the agonies of a 
shameful death, to the felon's tree ; — His back bared for 
the scourge ; — his brow lacerated with the crown of thorns ; 
— his cheeks mangled by the cruel hands that had "plucked 
off the hair." Eaint with loss of blood, exhausted with 
torture, parched with thirst, — the nerves of the hands and 
feet (most sensitive of all the body to suffering) bearing 
the whole weight of the exhausted frame ! A surging sea 
of human beings was beneath. Two ruffian thieves are 
struggling, in their last agonies, at His side ; while in the 
distance, the Temple is seen gradually emerging, in snowy 



THE GEEAT SUNSET. 285 

whiteness, from its three hours' darkness, and the green 
slopes of Olivet are lighted by the descending sun. The 
calm repose of death settles on the countenance of Him, 
who, two days before, had moistened the turf of that moun- 
tain with tears of compassion, and sprinkled its olive-boughs 
with drops of blood for His crucifiers ! 

Let us turn aside for a little, and see this great sight. As 
we take our position with that sorrowful group who " stood 
by the cross of Jesus : his mother and his mother's sister, 
Mary the wife of Cleopas, and Mary Magdalene," — let us take 
the shoes from off our feet, for the place whereon we are 
about to stand is holy ground ! 

We shall examine the import of that dying saying of Jesus, 
when, on receiving the vinegar, He cried, " It is finished : 
and He bowed His head, and gave up the ghost." 

I. When Jesus said, "It is finished," He addressed 
Himself. 

It was a word of triumph — a calm, reposeful utterance ; — ■ 
a dying word, — but the word of a dying conqueror. 

His soul-struggle seemed now over. Stretched as He was, 
a humiliating spectacle, upon that cruel cross, and excruci- 
ating as was the bodily anguish, — yet light — the light of 
heavenly joy — seemed to have streamed in upon Him before 
He sent His spirit away. As we have often seen the sun in 
the heavens, after wading for hours amid black and murky 
clouds, — as we have seen the hidden globe of fire, as it 
dipped behind the horizon-line, sending a gleam of dazzling 
brightness athwart the whole landscape — a parting burst of 
glory before the night-shadows fell, — so it would seem with 



28G SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

the Great Sun of Righteousness. After hours of unutterable 
darkness, which had their exponent in blood-drops, and in 
the piercing cry of God-desertion ; — lo ! a gleam of radiance 
breaks from His eclipsed soul, — suffusing His own dying 
countenance with triumph, and the world with hope ! The 
cross is, for the instant, changed into a kingly throne. The 
thorn-crowned Monarch " sees of the travail of His so»l and 
is satisfied.''' It was the moment when the great programme 
of His incarnation-work had reached its climax. He had 
the sublime consciousness that the battle was won, the 
ramparts were carried, and He, as the moral conqueror, was 
now planting His banner on their heights. 

That is always a solemn crisis, in a man's history, when he 
has completed some great undertaking. A great historian * 
has left a memorable record of the evening when his pen 
traced the last line of a gigantic work. The architect or 
builder must feel a proud sensation when the last stone of 
some mighty edifice is laid ; or, in our dockyards, when the 
last ring of ten thousand hammers is heard, and some proud 
naval triumph floats majestically on the waters. The patriot 
who has worked resolutely and bravely for his country's weal, 
must experience an elevating satisfaction when he sees his days 
of patient toil, and his nights of anxious watching, crowned 
with success, — despotism dethroned, and liberty triumphant. 

And what, if we can use the comparison, must have been 
the feelings of the adorable Son of God, at that moment, when 
the burden of His tremendous work was at an end, — redemp- 
tion completed, the victory won ! — the moment arrived, to 
which He had looked forward from all eternity, and regard- 

* Gibbon. 



TIIE GEEAT SUNSET. 287 

ing which, as cycles narrowed into eras, and eras into 
centuries, and centuries into years, and years into weeks and 
days, He had uttered the words with increasing intensity and 
fervour — "J have a baptism to be baptized with, and how 
am I straitened until it be accomplished ? " If, even in the 
anticipation of this moment of victory, " Wisdom " had exult- 
ingly said, before the foundations of the world, — " Lo, I 
come; I delight to do Thy will, my God;" — what must 
have been His delight when He placed the last stone on the con- 
summated Temple, and looking down the vista of a glorious 
future, beheld u a multitude ivhich no man can number" 
casting their ransomed crowns at His feet ! If there be joy 
among the angels even over " one sinner that repenteth," 
what must now have been the joy of the Lord of angels, 
when He had in view the millions on millions, who in all 
coming ages, would exult in that cross as their chiefest 
glory ? It is enough ; He need keep the chariots no longer 
waiting, that are ready to bear His spirit away, — " His right 
hand and His holy arm have gotten Him the victory" The 
great redemption is achieved. "Jesus, knowing that all 
things were now accomplished, cried, It is finished : and he 
bowed his head, and gave tip the ghost." 

II. When Jesus said, "It is finished," He addressed His 
Father. 

The Eedeemer stood not alone in that wondrous under- 
taking. Deeply mysterious are those references in Scrip- 
ture to the covenantings of Father and Son in a bypast 
eternity, regarding the work of redemption. There are gleam- 
ing passages of light that burst upon us here and there; 



288 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

revealing the First Person in the adorable Trinity, as entering 
into covenant-stipulations with Christ, "the Servant" He 
had " chosen/' — " the Son in whom He delighted," — for the 
ransom and recovery of the fallen. Shadowy and undefined 
as the record of these solemn intereommunings is, we gather 
from them that that theology is false and unsound, which 
would represent God as an unloving being, armed with 
vindictive wrath against the sinner, and only calmed and 
propitiated by the bloodshedding of an innocent surety. " 
righteous Father ! " truly exclaimed the Saviour, knowing the 
world's unscriptural dogma, — " The world hath not known 
Thee !" And then He adds, " but I have known Thee !" As 
if He said, " If that misjudging world had been admitted, as 
I have been, into these eternal secrets, it would not have been 
slow to attest that God is love!" * 

Yes, the Father was as profoundly interested as the Son, 
in the completion of that vast undertaking. It was His 
sovereign love which devised it, — " God so loved the world!' 
" I have finished the work," says Christ, "which tkotj gavest 
me to do" f The character of God was, in the obedience and 
death of the Surety, to have a twofold illustration, as a God 
of holiness and a God of love. In the cross of His dear Son, 
He gave the mightiest pledge and exponent of both ;■ — of His 
holiness, that required such an expiation ; and of His love, 
that would give such a ransom price. 

God yearned over that prodigal earth ; He longed for the 
times when, rising from its degradation and ruin, the cry 
should be heard, " I will arise and go to my Father." He 
longed to clasp it to His embrace, — welcome this truant 

* See Dr Harris' Posthumous Works, vol. i., p. 243. f John xvii. 4. 



THE GEE AT SUNSET. 289 

from the brotherhood of worlds, and exclaim, " This my son 
ivas dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found!" 
And just as on earth, the consciousness of a son faithfully 
fulfilling his father's wishes yields the truest comfort and 
delight, so it would seem to be the noblest and purest 
source of joy to the Son of God, in His great work, that 
He was doing and implementing His heavenly Father's 
will. 

"0 my Father," exclaimed He, in the garden of Geth- 
semane, "if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." Or 
again, when He was in deepest period of His gloom, — when 
the last ray of joy and support seemed quenched in dark- 
ness, — the floodgates of His pent-up anguish burst in that 
bitter cry — " My God ! my God ! why hast thou forsaken 
me?" 

If there was a moment, during the most tragical occurrence 
of old Abraham's history, when the faith of the patriarch 
could have staggered and faltered, it was that surely when 
his innocent boy made the touching appeal, " My Father ! " 
If there were a moment when the courage and heroism of 
some aged confessor's heart would be likely to fail him ; — 
when his aged hands would be tempted to unbind the 
cords which tie his son to the martyr-stake, it would be 
when the words are wafted to his ear through the flames, 
" My Father ! " If there were ever a moment in the history 
of the incarnation, when God the Father's purpose of love 
to His world was, in human language, likely to fail, or be 
shaken ; — when He would be moved to untie the cords from 
the bleeding sacrifice, to let the world perish, that His loved 
One might go free ; — it was surely when these filial appeals 



290 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

were sent up amid the thick darkness, — " my Father! n 
" My God! my God!" Never since the time when the 
plighted covenant-vow had been taken and sealed in heaven ; 
— never since the voice of the Eternal had propounded the 
question, " Who shall go, and whom shall I send 1 " and 
the everlasting Son had willingly responded, "Here am I, 
send me;" — never had the Father's love been so tested. 
Bedemption, for the moment, seems to tremble in the 
balance; — it hangs suspended on the will and purpose of 
the Father ! One volition from that Father's throne ; — one 
utterance from that Father's lips ; — and the expiring Victim 
is unbound, and the world, loaded in its own chains, is 
left to the wail of despair. "Father" He cried, in another 
similar moment, just when the awful crisis had arrived, — 
when the dark shadow of the cross was projected on His 
path, — "Father, the hour is come." "Father, save me 
from this hour /" 

But does the Father falter ? Do these melting appeals shake 
the resolve of eternal love and mercy? We can imagine 
angels gathering around the garden and the cross, and ask- 
ing, in suppressed emotion, "Will He save Him ? shall the 
piercing appeal of the Innocent Sufferer prevail? or shall 
the cry of the doomed world enter into the ear of the God 
of Sabaoth?" "The Lord hath sworn by an oath, and 
will not repent." Father and Son are mutually pledged to 
fulfil the terms of the everlasting covenant. "Father," says 
Christ, "glorify thy Son, that thy Son also may glorify 
thee." " Father, glorify thy name ! And a voice came from 
heaven, saying, I have both glorified it, and will glorify it 
yet again." 



THE GEEAT SUNSET. 291 

And now, at this final moment, when yet hanging on the 
cross, "knowing that all things were accomplished;" — that 
He had fulfilled the requirements of a spotless law, not only 
by passive suffering but by active obedience ; — that its every 
penalty was paid, its every curse exhausted, and the lustre 
of a glorious vindication shed around the throne of God ; — 
Jesus proclaims, in the ears of His Father, the completion of 
His triumphs ; He makes the joyful announcement that He 
had magnified His law and made it honourable, — securing 
"peace on earth, and glory in the highest !" 

When a son on earth has completed some great under- 
taking, or accomplished some great enterprize which has lain 
near a parent's heart ; — with what bounding joy does he hasten 
to that father's presence, crying out, " Father ! the work is 
done ; your fondest wishes are realised and fulfilled." If it be 
lawful to compare human feelings with divine, — think of Jesus, 
the Son of God's love, — at the moment of the completion of 
that which had occupied the Father's thoughts from all eter- 
nity, lifting up His eyes from His pillow of more than mortal 
pain, and with joyful elation, — the smile of ineffable love on 
His lips, — saying, "Father, my Father! it is finished I" 

III. When Jesus said, " It is finished," He proclaimed His 
triumph in the ears of Satan and the powers of darkness. 

Whatever mystery there may be with reference to spiritual 
agency, Scripture leaves us in little doubt, not only that there 
is a gigantic confederacy of evil spirits, with Satan at their 
head, in league against the world ; — but one great object of 
the incarnation of Christ, — one part of His mission to our 
earth, — was to break up and disperse this confederacy ; — as the 



292 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

Prince of Light, to crush and discomfit the Prince of darkness; 
" For this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that he 
might destroy the works of the devil." On two occasions 
especially, in the personal life of the Saviour, does Satan, the 
arch-enemy, cross the path of the Son of God. First, on the 
Mount of Temptation he gathered all his accursed wiles. On 
each successive assault, he was repelled, but not vanquished. 
When the forty days' temptation was ended, we read, " the 
devil departed from him foe a season. " * When wave 
after wave had spent their fury on the Eock of Ages, they 
receded to gather up fresh strength for another encounter. 
''For a season'' that malignant demon retreated to his halls 
of darkness, to organise another — a last daring attack, on 
incarnate Truth and Holiness. 

Two years and a half were spent in maturing his plot. 
The garden of Gethsemane is selected as the field of conflict. 
There were, doubtless, other and more awful elements in that 
hour of soul-agony. That mysterious cup, for whose removal 
He prayed, points to Him as the Surety-substitute, draining 
the vials of wrath for our sins ; and this wrath-cup of im- 
puted transgression was doubtless what He held with most 
trembling hand. But we cannot read the passage without 
being forced to the conclusion, that there was also a personal 
foe — Satan himself — prowling amid that darkness. The 
divine Sufferer had the anticipation of his coming. The foul 
shadow of the tempter's wings seems to be brooding over 
Him in the hour of His valedictory discourse, — " The prince 
of this world cometh," says He. Again, " This is your hour, 
and the power of darkness." f And again, "Now iz the 

* Luke iv. 13. + Luke xxii. 53. 



THE GEEAT SUNSET. 293 

judgment of this world; now shall the prince of this world 
be cast out!' * And when, in the mysterious recesses of that 
olive-garden, He was engaged face to face, as we believe, with 
His gigantic foe ; — three times did He rise from his posture of 
agony, to warn His disciples of the tempter's presence and 
accursed wiles — " Watch and pray, that ye enter not into 
temptation." 

That the same Spirit of Evil had followed Him to Calvary, 
we cannot doubt. In that touching and impressive twenty- 
second Psalni— the very record of the Saviour's sufferings — 
the soliloquy which, it is with probability supposed, He 
uttered to Himself on the cross, -f while He says " Many 
bulls have compassed me, strong bidls of Bashan have beset 
me round," He mentions specially "one" roaring lion from 
"the mountains of prey," mightier and stronger than the 
rest ; and it is remarkable that the last prayer of His lips, 
during the period of darkness described in that psalm, just 
immediately before the light breaks upon Him, is a prayer 
for deliverance from this great personal foe — " Save me from 
the lions mouth" \ 

The prayer is heard. What is the next utterance ? It is 
a burst of triumph, which continues to the end of the psalm, 
till the lips that utter it are sealed in death ; — " Thou hast 
heard me from the horns of the unicorns." § The battle is 
over ! Satan is defeated, unsceptred, and uncrowned. The 
vanquished Spirit, in the poetry of the Psalms, "is led, with 
his captive multitudes, captive." He and his legion-throng 
are laden with fetters, and chained to the triumphant wheels 

* Jolin xii. 31. f See Stevenson's " Christ on the Cross." 

% Psalm xxii. 21. § Psalm xxii. 21. 



294 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

of Messiah's chariot. " Having" says St Paul, speaking of 
the Saviour on the cross, " having spoiled principalities and 
powers, he made a show of them openly, triumphing over 
them in it." It was on the cross, the sceptre of Satan is here 
represented as broken, and his power crushed and annihilated. 
There "he cut Bahab, and wounded the dragon" * Oh, when 
the adorable Redeemer, with His omniscient eye, saw this 
vast Jericho of Satanic power, which four thousand years had 
matured and consolidated, falling with a crash to the ground ; 
— the palace of " the strong man armed " now a dismantled 
fortress, and all its magazines redeemed for His own service ; 
— when He saw the old serpent of Eden writhing in the 
dust ; its head bruised and crushed under His own bleeding 
feet ; He sounds over His prostrate adversary the death-knell 
of His power ! At the sound, the pillars of hell rock and 
tremble to their foundations. He cried, " It is finished ; 
and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost" 

IV. When Jesus said, " It is finished," He addressed His 
ransomed Church and a perishing world.-f- 

(1.) The Church of all ages heard in that cry what it had 

* Isa. li. 9. 

■f " To whom finally does He speak this word ? The first utterance upon 
the cross was spoken to God, but for men. The second, to a man to com- 
fort him with the salvation of God. The third, to mortals, who in the love 
of God and His love are commended to each other. The fourth is the first 
which He speaks for Himself alone with His God; and yet most impres- 
sively for us all. In the fifth, though still almost alone with His own 
need, He yet indirectly turned to men. And the sixth, " It is finished," 
it embraces all the references of the others in one; He speaks it for Him- 
self, for the world, and for the Father." — Stier Words of the Lord Jesus, 
vol. viii., p. 25. 



THE GEEAT SUNSET. 295 

long lived and waited for. All the scattered rays of light in 
type and prophecy, were here concentrated. Here was the 
day Abraham saw afar off and was glad.* Here was the 
true Isaac lying bound upon the altar. •(• Heie was the days- 
man and the living kinsman of Job. J Here was the anti- 
type of the brazen serpent in the old Sinai desert. § Here 
was the wounded and bruised and afflicted Saviour of Isaiah, || 
yet His " wonderful Counsellor " and " mighty God ; " 
" Immanuel, God with us." ^[ Here was the " Shepherd and 
fellow of Jehovah," against whom Zechariah saw the sword 
awaking ** Here was Daniel's Messiah, the Prince " cut off, 
but not for himself." -|~f* Here was David's Lord " made a 
priest for ever," yet now drinking the bitter "brook by 
the way."!} Here was the interpretation of all that long 
mysterious ritual of blood and sacrifice in " the Lamb slain 
from the foundation of the world." §§ 

Jesus himself, as He now hung upon the cross, and just 
before uttering His last saying, saw the completion of all 
these prophecies — the fulfilment of all these types. 

Nay, not all ; — there was one prophetic utterance of the 
Psalmist, apparently trivial and insignificant, that had not 
yet been accomplished. It occurs in the sixty-ninth Psalm : 
" They gave me also gall for my meat ; and in my thirst 
they gave me vinegar to drink." Till this moment, during 
all the protracted bodily tortures, He had asked no allevia- 
tion. He sought no shelter from the full thunderstorm of 

* John viii. 56. + Gen. xxii. 9. % Job ix. 33. 

§ Num. xxi. 8, 9. li Isa. liii. 5. H Isa. ix. 6. 

** Zech. xiii. 7. ft Dan. ix 26. tt P* ex. 7. 
§§ Rev. xiii. 8. 



296 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

wrath that burst on His guiltless head. He wished to give 
His enemies no reason to suppose that He desired to evade 
the appointed sufferings. He even refused the proiiered 
anodyne, "the wine mingled with myrrh," which would 
have induced a torpor, and made Him so far insensible to 
suffering. But He who has power over His own life, re- 
members, that, ere He can close His eyes in death, one 
saying yet must be fulfilled. It is all that is required to 
complete the proof of His Messiahship. Observe, He makes 
no specific request, — He merely utters the word, " I thirst'' 
— and leaves it to the unconscious agents, in fulfilling the 
words of an old prophecy, to hand him " the sponge filled 
with vinegar/' "And now," we read, "when Jesus had 
received the vinegar" — when prophecy and type, to the last 
jot and tittle, had been completed, — "when he had received 
the vinegar/' He turns to the Church He had ransomed, — 
His Church on earth, His redeemed Church in glor}^— and 
He cries, " with a loud voice," — as if a signal to take their 
harps and tune them for song, — He gives them the key-note 
of the everlasting anthem, — "It is finished." 

(2.) Christ in these words addresses all mankind ! There 
is not a human soul that may not take comfort and hope 
from the joyous tidings of a completed salvation. He spake 
" with a loud voice," as if He wished the whole race to hear it. 
It was the sound of a great jubilee- trumpet proclaiming that 
" the year of its release was come ! " 

The vision till now before His divine mind, had been a 
world advancing to its doom ! — a world in tears, from which 
rose the wail of never- ebbing anguish ! — an orphan world — 
miserable and naked, that had forfeited home, and father, 



THE GEE AT SUl^SET. 29? 

and peace ! — a diseased and dying world — a mighty hospital, 
in which nations and their millions were perishing. Now, 
from that cross of shame, and yet of triumph, He seems as if 
He exclaimed — " Weeping world ! dry your tears ; bondaged 
world ! your captivity is at an end ; bankrupt world ! the 
debt is all paid ; orphaned world ! I can now tell you of a 
home and a Father ; diseased world ! rise from your prostrate 
couch of suffering and death — tear off these bandages of sin 
and corruption — go forth ' walking and leaping and praising 
God!" 

Yes ! though, in the first instance, He addressed His 
Church, — the Church which He had redeemed with His 
blood, — He addressed the world also. See that bleeding 
Saviour, suspended midway between heaven and earth ! — hear 
Him, with His hands outstretched, as if, in the yearnings 
of compassion, He would embrace mankind, saying, "Look 
unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth." * — 
"Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh aivay the sin of the 
world l ,} In another striking and solemn portion of Scripture, 
God is represented as addressing the sinner by a solemn oath. 
He swears by His own eternal existence, u A s /live, saith the 
Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked." But 
that incarnate Jehovah, — that suffering Immanuel, — stretched 
on the shameful tree, seems to change the form of solemn 
asseveration, and thus to address us — ^Not 'as I live,' but 
* as I DIE,' — I have no pleasure in your death, but rather that 
ye would turn from your wickedness and live ! " " It is 
finished ! " as if He said, " What more can I say, what 
more can I do, than these words imply ? — a full, free, com- 
* Isa. xlv. 22. 



298 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

pleted salvation. ' It is finished ! ' Look at tlie superscrip- 
tion on my cross. It is written 'in Hebrew, and Greek, 
and Latin/ — finished for all — suited for all — offered to 
all — Jew and Greek, Barbarian and Scythian, bond and 
free ! " 

Sinner, in the depths of thy sin and degradation and 
misery, behold that suffering Victim, and hear the words 
uttered for you, " It is finished ! '• Self-righteous man, 
patching together these miserable fragments of your own 
merits, come to that cross, and hear the utterance of that spot- 
less Surety, who not only has " finished transgression/'' and 
" made an end of sin, and made reconciliation for iniquity/ 
but who has " brought in an everlasting righteousness !" — 
come, and take that seamless robe of obedience which He 
offers you, as He cries, "It is finished!''' Come, backslider,* 
with your heartfelt sorrow ; come, penitent, in your bitter v 
tears ; come, ruined one ; lost one, — helpless, hopeless r 
'perishing ; — ay, come, dying one ; come, like that repentant^ 
felon ; — lift the eye of faith and hope to the bleeding Sacri- v 
fice, — and hear those words which formed for him the golden 
ladder-steps which led him " that day " to be " with Jesus in 
Paradise/' " It is finished !" 



XVII. 



" Flung to the heedless winds, 
Or on the waters cast, 
Their ashes shall be watch' d, 
And gather'd at the last. 

" And from that scatter'd dust 
Around us and abroad, 
Shall spring a plenteous seed 
Of witnesses for God. 

u Still, still, though dead, they speak, 
And trumpet -tongued proclaim 
To many a wak'ning land 
The one prevailing Name." 

" The hours of the day are over, and softly the season of light 
Goes out in a golden glory, and fades from our ravish'd sight. 

" Eve is the season of rest, the season of thought and repose, 
The overwrought toilers hail it — herald of balm for their woea. 

" Beautiful gates of the sunset ! ornate with crimson and gold, 
Like the tapestried tent of a monarch, their bars of pearl unfold. 

" Far up in heaven they open, bidding earth's light grow dim, 
That the children of men may gather, and sing their evening hymn. 

" Homeward, I hear it whisper'd on each dying breath of the breeze; 
'Tis the burden of the sunset with its choral symphonies. 

" Every night brings us nearer, nearer, and every departing sun 
Bids us take heart and labour, for soon will our work be done." 

u And devout men carried Stephen to his buiial, and made great lamen- 
tation over him." — Acts viii. 2. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 

Wheee the funeral lamentations of these devout mourn er3 
took place, we cannot tell. There is a story (which, however, 
rests on doubtful tradition,) that Gamaliel, Paul's instructor, 
himself in secret a Christian, had the mangled body of 
Stephen conveyed to a private burial-ground in his own 
villa, twenty miles distant from Jerusalem ; — that, in accord- 
ance with oriental wont, he mourned for him seventy days ; 
— and that, when he himself was approaching death, he gave 
directions that his own ashes were to mingle with those of 
the venerated martyr.* 

Be this as it may, let us gather, in thought, around the 
rude death-couch of this spiritual hero, and watch the going 
down of his earthly sun. It is a " sunset " alike mournful and 
glorious. The sky itself is stormy and lowering; but the 
peaceful orb descends in calm majesty, bathed in the light 
and glory of a brighter hemisphere. 

The death and martyrdom of Stephen has been, to the 
Church in every age, a hallowed memorial of faith, stern 
endurance, Christian meekness, and love. It was a testimony 
specially needed in the apostolic age ; for well has it been 
observed (though the remark is a sad one) that, " the first 
apostle who died was a traitor ; the first disciples of the 
apostles were hypocrites and liars ; — the kingdom of the 
Son of man was founded in darkness and gloom." f But 

* See note in Howson and Conybeare, St Paul, in loco. 
f Ibid., vol. i., p. 83. 



302 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

here, at last, was a true sun, amid these wandering stars, 
shedding a chastened and mellowed glory in the olden 
firmament. Doubtless, the simple but sublime narrative 
of Stephen's dying moments, nerved the arm and braced the 
faith of many of the noble army of martyrs who immediately 
followed him, and whose blood became the seed of tho 
Church. 

Let us mingle, in thought, among the crowd of "devout 
men" who are " carrying him to his burial," and gather a few 
instructive lessons. 

Of his earlier history we know little, save that he was a 
Grecian, or foreign Jew, converted to the faith of Jesus of 
Nazareth,* and selected by the Church as one of the seven 
deacons who were to have the administration of the fund for 
destitute Christian widows. As a Hellenist,-)- his mind was 
not warped with the weak prejudices which beset the Jewish 
converts resident in Palestine. Many of these still fondly 
clung to the old nationality. They looked with pride on 
their ritual, their temple, their ancestral privileges. Stephen 
was, in this respect, a step in advance even of the apostles 
themselves. He saw a nobler spiritual shrine rising on the 
ruins of the temple of Jerusalem ; — true worshippers from 
every nation gathering within its sacred courts, and confess- 
ing that " Jesus Christ was Lord." 

His character is delineated in a single sentence : He was 
"a man full of faith, and of the Holy Ghost" — "full oj 
faith and power ." \ These are equivalent and convertible 

* Some hold that Stephen was one of the seventy disciples selected by 
our Lord, others that he was converted by Peter's sermon at Pentecost; 
but both must be matter of conjecture. 

t SeeNeander. J Acts vi- 8« 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNT OE OLIVES. 303 

terms — for the power this man of faith had was God-derived. 
The faith of his life, and the superhuman heroism of his 
death, have this as their exponent — "Not by might, nor 
by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Loed oe Hosts." * 
That Holy Spirit seemed mightily to strengthen him, as 
he stood alone, confronting the learning, and, worse than 
all, the furious bigotry, of the supreme ecclesiastical court of 
the nation. His Lord appeared, in his case, to afford the 
first fulfilment of a promise given, in the course of His per- 
sonal ministry, to all His true disciples, — " But when they 
shall deliver you up, take no thought how or tuhat ye shall 
speak, for it shall be given you in that same hour what ye 
shall speak. For it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of 
your Father which speak eth in you." Even to the very last, 
he was upborne by the same " Spirit of power." It was this 
same omnipotent Agent who smoothed his martyr-pillow; for 
we read, " And he, being full of the Holy Ghost, looked up 
steadfastly to heaven." -f- Moreover, if, as we shall imme- 
diately see, it was Jesus, and a vision of Jesus, which formed 
the secret of support and holy transport in his dying hour, — 
have we not, in the two statements combined, a beautiful 
illustration of the words of the apostle, — " No man can say 
that Jesus is the Lord but by the Holy Ghost ? " J As it 
was the Holy Spirit who revealed the infant Saviour to aged 
Simeon, so it was the Holy Spirit who revealed the vision 
of the exalted Saviour to the dying martyr. 

Let us seek to glorify this blessed Agent, more than we do, 
as " the revealer of Jesus." "He shall glorify me," says Christ; 
u for he shall receive of mine, and shall shew it unto you." 

* Zech. iv. 6. + Acts vii. 55. t 1 Cor. xii. %. 



*** 



304 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

Why is it that we see the words of feeble, stammering tongues, 
often owned and acknowledged, while human learning and 
eloquence are powerless and unblessed ; — the golden arrows 
from the best human quivers falling short of their mark, 
while "the smooth pebbles of the brook" from the lowly 
sling, and that, too, in untutored hands, are "making the 
people fall under them?" Paul tells us why, — " My speech 
and my preaching ivas not with enticing words of mans 
wisdom, but in demonsteation of the Spirit and of 
powee ; that your faith shoidd not stand in the wisdom 
of men, but in the power of God." * 

Let us pass to Stephen's accusation and trial. 

Though introduced to our notice in the sacred page, only 
as a deacon, (an almoner of temporal bounty,) yet, being " a 
man full of faith and of the Holy Ghost," he could not be 
silent in proclaiming the name of his great Master. We 
read that "he did great wonders and miracles among the 
people" "f" 

There were in Jerusalem a number of synagogues, belong- 
ing to the Jews of various countries. In these, Stephen took 
the opportunity of vindicating the cause of his Lord, and 
more especially in that of the Libertines, — a word which 
seems to refer to those Hebrews who had at one time been 
Roman slaves, but who had obtained or purchased their 
freedom. Finding his wisdom and arguments irresistible, 
his hearers betook themselves to the last base expedient for 
silencing truth. They resolve to get a conviction against 
him for blasphemy ; — they forget for the time their mutual 
* 1 Cor. ii. 4. + Acts vi. 8. 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 305 

jealousies and hostilities, and combine for the overthrow of a 
common enemy. The Sadducees — the infidel party — hated 
and denounced, with the utmost vehemence, the new Christian 
tenet of the resurrection. The Pharisees, with a still more 
bitter animosity, repudiated a sect who were bold in advo- 
cating the death-blow to their national and ancestral pride — ■ 
the superseding of the Mosaic ritual by a system which was 
to know neither Jew nor Greek, and by which God's house 
was to be made "a house of prayer for all nations/' 

What is their unworthy policy ? They suborned witnesses 
to exaggerate these dogmas, and put them in the most dis- 
tasteful and exasperating light — " We have heard him say, 
that this Jesus of Nazareth shall destroy this place, and 
shall change the customs which Moses delivered us.'" What ! 
" the holy and beautiful house where our fathers worshipped 
to be destroyed, and all our pleasant things to be laid waste ! " 
What blasphemous words against the Temple and the Law ! 
The most honoured name and most honoured locality de- 
famed and dishonoured, and that too by a reputed ei son of 
Abraham ! " Their blood was stirred ; — a popular tumult 
was easily fermented ; — the Sanhedrim are convened in their 
ancient hall or stone chamber, on Mount Mori ah, and Stephen 
stands confronting the seventy-two j udges. 

In calm majesty, he begins his defence. He arrests the at- 
tention of his auditors by commencing with a recapitulation 
of their national annals. Beginning with the call of Abra- 
ham, he descends from age to age, till he reaches the era of 
Solomon, and the building of the temple under whose august 
shadow he then stood. But he couples his reference to the 

sacred shrine, with the scope and spirit at least of Isaiah's 

u 



306 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

gospel words — " Howbeit the most High dwelleth not in 
temples made with hands ; as saith the prophet, Heaven i 
my throne, and earth is my footstool : what house will 
build me 1 saith the Lord : or ivhat is the place of my 
rest ? " 

This startling assertion creates a stir in his hitherto silent 
audience. A scene of noise and confusion takes place. 
Stung to the quick by the anticipated inference from the 
quotation of one of their own seers, they refuse any longer 
to listen to his defence. He himself watches the tempest 
gathering round his head ; and seeing how hopeless it is to 
combat malicious rage by calm argument, he abruptly breaks 
off his historical exordium, and, in an outburst of righteous 
vehemence and indignation, he denounces them as the slayers 
of the prophets, and the betrayers and murderers of Christ. 

The commotion in the Sanhedrim now culminates in un- 
governable rage. The gray-headed elders of the nation, — the 
scribes, the expounders of the law, the phylacteried Pharisees, 
the infidel Sadducees, the high priest or president of the as- 
sembly, — all with one accord rise from their stone seats, their 
eyes flashing with fire, " and gnashed upon him with their 
teeth." 

How true is it, that the word of God is either the savour 
of life unto life or of death unto death ! There is, in many 
respects, a striking similarity between Peter's recent ser- 
mon on the day of Pentecost, and Stephen's present address 
to the Sanhedrim ; but how different the results ! In the 
one case, thousands were pricked to the heart — the tear 
of genuine penitence rolling down their cheeks, and the cry 
rising from the depths of their stricken spirits, " Men and 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 307 

brethren, what shall we doV In the other, unbelief only 
settled down into deeper and more confirmed obduracy. 
Those with the prestige of authority and sanctity became 
the abettors of one of the foulest crimes that stained the 
annals of waning Judaism. It loaded the cloud of judg- 
ment, long brooding over the nation, and which was ere long 
to burst in awful vengeance. 

That same sword of the Spirit is still a two-edged sword, 
— mighty to save, or mighty to destroy. Grace received, 
has more grace given, — "Then shall we know, if we follow 
on to know the Lord"* Grace resisted, makes "the hard 
and impenitent heart" harder still, — "treasuring up for 
itself wrath against the day of wrath." 

Let us attend now to Stephen's vision. 

There is something very sublime in this apocalypse of 
glory ! He stands confronting his infuriated judges in their 
temple hall. But in the midst of that scene of unholy vehe- 
mence and rage, as he looks up, perhaps while engaged in 
silent ejaculatory prayer, the walls and pillars of the earthly 
court of justice seem to dissolve; and, to his enraptured vision, 
a house, not made by mortal hands, discloses itself ! He 
beholds the heaven of heavens ! The victim of earth's unhal- 
lowed malice is transported all at once into "the general 
assembly and church of the first-born!' Turning from the 
dishonoured throne of an earthly tribunal, he gazes on the 
throne of One who "judges righteous judgment." 

What " the glory of God " was, which he saw, we cannot 
pretend to conjecture. Like Paul's subsequent heavenly 
* Hos. vi. 3. 



308 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

vision, it must have been something beyond the power of 
human language to describe, — not "possible for man to utter." 
But there was one part of the vision clearly defined,— one 
Object which stood forth in bold relief, in this celestial pic- 
ture. That adorable Saviour who, but a few weeks before, he 
had himself possibly seen hanging as a criminal on the cross, 
was now beheld " standing at the right hand of the throne ! " 
There are two things specially noticeable in the vision : — 
First, The designation given to Christ by the martyr. While 
the evangelist in his description says, " He saw Jesus stand- 
ing on the right hand of God," Stephen himself, in relating 
the vision, uses another, and, in the circumstances, a more 
touching and expressive title — "Behold, I see the heavens 
opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of 
God." At that entrancing moment, — as the celestial portals 
flew open, and his eye wandered through the burning ranks 
which surrounded the central throne, — he may have expected 
to behold the Lord he loved, seated in dazzling glory, sur- 
rounded with some awful symbols of deity. But lo ! it is 
the Son o/man ! It is the same Brother of human kind he 
had so recently seen on earth ; — He who, as man, and as 
" the Son of man," had undergone, near where he now stood, 
sufferings and tortures, in comparison with which, all that 
awaited him were but as dust in the balance ! 

And, secondly, more than this, he sees Jesus "standing." 
There is a volume of tender meaning here. Thirteen times 
is Christ spoken of in Scripture as " seated at the right hand 
of God;" only once is He spoken of as "standing," and 
that once is here. He is "seated;" — there is comfort 
indeed in that truth also ; that, on the close of His earthly 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 309 

work and warfare, He was enthroned In Heaven as " Lord of 
all." On that royal seat, " set as king in his holy hill of 
Zion," — He is quietly " waiting " till all His enemies be put 
under His feet; and then, once more will He "rise" that He 
may " come and receive them to Himself." Indeed, Paul's 
words are remarkable as viewed side by side with those of 
Stephen's vision : — " He hath FOR ever sat down at the right 
hand of God, from henceforth expecting (waiting) till his 
enemies be made his footstool/' 

Why, then, this strange exception in the text ? Why has 
the seated Saviour changed His posture so that He is seen 
"standing" by His dying saint? Oh, blessed testimony to 
the deathless sympathy and tenderness of that loving Saviour's 
heart ! — Seated though He be — it is as if He had heard the 
stir in that court on earth ; — as if He had heard (as indeed 
He did) every malicious taunt that was hurled at His holy 
servant. He cannot remain still. He rises ; — (or, if we dare 
use a human expression to give force to the heavenly vision) 
— He starts from His seat at the " call " of His injured 
disciple — He feels the cruelties inflicted on him as if they 
were inflicted on Himself.* He, the same gentle, tender, 
Shepherd that He ever was, sees one of the choicest sheep of 
the fold in the fangs of ravening wolves I Roused by these 
wild beasts who were scattering His flock ; — touched with the 
tender bleat of that holy and innocent victim of their rage, — 
the good Shepherd stoops down from the hills of glory • and, 
as Stephen enters the valley of the shadow of death, He com- 
forts and supports him with His rod and staff ! 

* See both these points ably illustrated in a sermon by the Rev. Henry 
MelvilL B.D. 



310 SUNSETS ON THE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

Who knows, when the martyr was thus surrounded by that 
infuriate rabble, but some such thought as this may have 
crossed his mind? — "Would that it were with me as in 
months past — when that Saviour-God was personally present 
with His Church on earth, — when He cheered them on the 
lake-shore, or comforted them in the midnight sea, or wept 
with them in Bethany's graveyard ! — would that He were here, 
to cast upon me His loving eye of sympathy, or cheer me with 
His tender words, or with His strong arm to pluck me from 
the fangs of these merciless destroyers. But, alas ! I am 
alone; — the gates of heaven have closed on my ascended Lord. 
I cannot tell whether, now that He is seated amid the hosan- 
nas of eternity, He can bend a look of pity upon me. I 
may be left unthought of and unsuccoured in this pitiless 
storm." 

Nay, nay. Behold! not only "heaven opened," and the 
" Son of man" — (Jesus unchanged in human form) — seated 
there; but, (more amazing than all,) behold Him, roused 
from His posture of repose, bending down from the skies, — ■ 
the songs of heaven for the moment hushed, that He may 
cast a look of loving sympathy on a saint struggling in the 
earthly billows. That great Shepherd who " calleth His own 
sheep by name, and leadeth them out," will not listen unmoved 
to that dying cry. The disciple has made a good confes- 
sion before many witnesses, and his Lord (holding the portal 
of heaven open with one hand, and the martyr-crown with 
the other) seems to say — " Well done, good and faithful ser- 
vant:" "thou hast been faithful unto death; I will give thee 
a crown of life ! " 

And what Christ was to Stephen of old, He is to His 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 311 

people still. In every season of sore calamity, — whether to 
His Church collectively, or to its members individually, — He 
is ready to rise from His throne and bend over them in 
tender love ! 

What a source of comfort this Vision of Jesus must have 
been to the suffering Christians of a future age. How they 
would revert to it, as the axe of the executioner gleamed 
before them, or the faggots were piled around them ! How 
they would rejoice in the thought that, far above the un- 
sympathising crowd of human tormentors, there was One 
in heaven who was Himself the " faithful and true Martyr,' 1 * 
bone of their bone, and flesh of their flesh ; and who could 
say, with all the intensity of dearly-bought experience, — " 1 
know your sorrows." 

' Observe, next, Stephen's twofold prayer. 

He is dragged by a ruffian crew outside the city gates ; — 
and somewhere nigh (probably within sight of) that Geth- 
semane where his great Lord had suffered, Stephen is to 
seal his testimony with his blood. As the showers of stones 
are hurled upon his guiltless head, the meek sufferer utters a 
twofold supplication. 

1st, For himself. He looks upward to that same all- 
glorious Son of man ; but, knowing that infinite Deity is in 
union with humanity, he invokes His succour, not as man, but 
as God. " Calling upon and saying " — (not " calling upon 
God," as it is rendered in our authorised version ;- — that 
word is in italics, and is not in the original), but invoking 
Jesus, and saying, " Loed Jesus, receive my spirit ! " Like 
* Rev. iii. 14. 



312 SUNSETS ON TEE HEBEEW MOUNTAINS. 

Christ in His calmness and meekness, he resembles Him in 
this final prayer. It was almost a repetition of the closing 
utterance of the Saviour Himself — " Father, into Thy hands 
I commend my spirit" As we have already remarked, 
possibly Stephen had himself been a spectator of that awful 
scene on Calvary. He may have been among the group we 
read of, as having been "near the cross of Jesus;" and the 
prayer of his beloved Lord may have moulded his own in 
a similar hour. 

2d, His other prayer was Christ-like too ; — more remark- 
able even than the former. 

Having besought the Saviour's mercy for himself, he pro- 
ceeds to implore the same for his murderers ; — and again, (as 
if he drank in his inspiration from recollections of Calvary?) 
" he kneeled down, and cried with a loud voice " — and in the 
spirit at least of his Lord's words for His crucifiers — " Lord, 
lay not this sin to their charge!' 

Oh, there is more than nature here ! Let those who scorn 
the word grace : — who treat it as a figment and illusion, — 
let them come to this awful death-bed and say, Is there not 
something more than human, in the divine, forgiving charity 
of this tortured hero of truth? We know what nature 
would have done in the circumstances. We know its look 
of mad defiance, — the frown of malicious revenge. We know 
what its malison would be on that miscreant throng. How 
its last shout would be — " Let not my mangled body be cast 
unavenged in its tomb ; — let no murderer here go to his 
grave in peace ! " 

How different ! His last moments of consciousness are 
spent in prayer for these guilty assassins. No wonder it is 



SUNSET OX THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 313 

said, "He being full of the Holy Ghost." It was the Spirit 
of God, the blessed Spirit of peace, that, dovelike, hovered 
around him, in these dying moments ! A few years later, 
the Eoman legions, under the victorious Titus, were to be 
ranged in that very spot where Stephen now lay ; and these 
gates and walls, — temple and tower, — were to fall under the 
terrific assault. The conquest of Jerusalem was, even to a 
Eoman, a proud achievement. But a nobler victory, though 
of a different kind, was being achieved by that one Chris- 
tian hero, when, bleeding and mangled, he rises to his knees 
and prays for his murderers ; — for " he that ruleili his spirit 
is greater than he that taketh a city." * And observe, 
in Stephen's character, a noble combination of qualities. 
Indeed, as has been well remarked, there is nothing more 
striking than the manly, uncompromising way in which he 
denounces the sin of his persecutors, and the loving, tender 
way he prays for themselves. Let us never forget this re- 
fined and beautiful distinction. Be as bold as you please in 
the denunciation of all iniquity ; — withstand to the face, 
whenever there is conduct to be blamed ; but deal tenderly 
and forgivingly with the persons and character of offenders. 
No heathen philosophy ever inculcated such a maxim as this, 
— " Love your enemies." There is no more brilliant testimony 
to the reality of religion than when that maxim is exempli- 
fied. We may feel certain, that in the case of Stephen, that 
strange, godlike demeanour would not be lost upon the by- 
standers, or even upon his murderers. We know, at all 
events, that one was there — a passive, but not uninterested 
spectator of the scene. — of whom Augustine perhaps says 

* Prov. xvi. 32. 



314 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

truly, " The Church owes Paul to the prayer of Stephen.'' 
That wondrous dying prayer for forgiveness could not have 
entered the ear of the young Tarsian in vain ; that angel- like 
countenance he saw in the hall of Gazith, conjoined with 
these last faint utterances of Christian forgiveness, may have 
hovered before him, when the voice of "that same Jesus" 
reached his own soul, "Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou 
me?" They may have done much in instigating the reply 
— "Lord, what wouldst Thou have me to do?" 

Once more, let us notice Stephen's calm departure. "He 
fell asleep" 

Sleep is a beautiful image and type of death ; but does it 
not seem strange to use the figure with reference to such a 
death as this ? We can understand its beauty, when the 
death-bed is surrounded by hearts beating with tender affec- 
tion, — kind eyes looking down on the struggling soul, — kind 
hands smoothing the pillow ; but it is hard to think or 
speak of death as " a sleep," amid a horde of murderers. Yet 
the sacred historian, simply and touchingly, thus describes 
Stephen's closing scene ! 

What was the secret of that quiet repose,— so gentle a 
breathing away of his spirit, in circumstances so dreadful? 

It was the sight of Christ. This had enabled him to 
triumph over all that was outwardly repulsive ;■ — that vision 
iii the Sanhedrim-hall soothed and smoothed that awful 
death-pillow. Just as we have seen a glorious Alp, with its 
diadem of virgin snow bathed in the hues of purple sunset, 
while its base was wreathed with stormy clouds and scarred 
with the path of the recent avalanche ; — so, the tempests are 



SUNSET ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. SI 5 

raging around his perishing body, but the great Sun of 
Righteousness is shining upon the departing soul, and gilding 
it with undying splendour. "Behold !" he exclaims, (as if the 
vision was something so overjDowering that, though he stood 
alone — no one to share in his emotions of transport — yet he 
could not resist proclaiming it even to the unsympathising 
crowd of persecutors,) " ■' Behold ! I see the Son of man 
standing ;' — He is waiting, with outstretched arras, to receive 
and welcome me, His poor servant. Can I be afraid of death 
under any form, if it be the portal to unite me to this over- 
living, ever- loving Lord ? " 

And is not this the secret of support in ten thousand death- 
beds still ? It is, indeed, delightful to think, as in the parable 
of the rich man and Lazarus, of troops of angels hovering 
around the saint's death-pillow, and waiting to bear his spirit 
into Abraham's bosom. But more comforting still, to think of 
Him who has at His girdle " the keys of the grave and of 
death," — the Son of man on the throne ; — to think of Him 
stooping from the heights of heaven and uttering the prayer — 
" Father, I will that they also whom Thou hast given me be 
with me where I am, that they may behold my glory." 

Let any who may be mourning the loss of departed Chris- 
tian friends, rejoice ; they are " with Christ," which is " fafi 
better." Their absence may be a sad deprivation to the 
Church on earth ; they may leave a sorrowful gap in the 
home-circle ; the devout (as in the case of Stephen) may be 
making a great and sore lamentation over them ; but they 
have " fallen asleep in Jesus ; " nay, at the hour of death, 
Christ stooped from His throne to receive their spirits. 



316 SUNSETS ON THE HEBREW MOUNTAINS. 

Theirs was an immediate entrance. The gate of death and 
the gate of Heaven was one ! 

They only are to be pitied and mourned who, while 
living, are living a life of death ; and who, when they come 
to die, (oh ! sad contrast with the departure of the first 
martyr !) can have no heavenly vision ; no " Son of man " 
standing to receive them ; no angels waiting to conduct them 
to glory, and to chant the requiem — " So giveth He His he- 
loved SLEEP ! " 

Eeader, whosoever thou art, if still without these hopes 
"full of immortality," Christ is now stooping from His 
throne to thee ! He is standing, with His outstretched arms 
of reconciliation and love, calling upon thee to be " recon- 
ciled unto God/' Oh ! postpone not, till a dying hour, re- 
sponding to His overtures of mercy. Be assured, all death- 
beds are the same in this, whether they be beds of down 
or pallets of straw; — whether under the thatched roof or 
under gilded ceilings ; — they can afford no ease to the aching 
head that has postponed till then, the great question of sal- 
vation ! Be it yours to live the life of the righteous, if you 
would die their death. Let existence be one sacred mission to 
" please God ;" — and then, yours shall be a peaceful " sunset/' 
The last enemy cannot appear too suddenly or unexpectedly. 
Whether a season of lingering, wasting sickness be appointed 
you ; — or " in a moment " — with the speed of the lightning- 
flash — the summons may come ; — in either case, you can, in 
humble faith and confidence, appropriate that beatitude, 
traced by the finger of God the Spirit, — a benediction better 
than all sculptured epitaphs of man's device — " Blessed are 

THE DEAD WHICH DIE IN THE LORD !" 



V 

■J 



SUNSET Oj5T THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 317 

* Behold the western evening-light 1 

It melts in deep'ning gloom ; 
So calmly Christians sink away, 
Descending to the tomb. 

* The winds breathe low, the with'ring leaf 

Scarce whispers from the tree ; 
So gently flows the parting breath 
When good men cease to be. 

*• How beautiful on all the hills 
The crimson light is shed ! 
'Tis like the holy peace diffused 
Around their dying bed. 

* How mildly on the wand'ring cloud 

The sunset beam is cast ! 
*Tis like the memory left behind, 
When loved ones breathe their last. 

* And soon the morning's gladsome light 

Their glory shall restore, 
And eyelids that are seal'd in death 
Shall wake to close no more." 



* Behold, the noon-day sun of life 

Doth seek its western bound, 
And fast the length'ning shadows cast 

A heavier gloom around ; 
And all the glow-worm lamps are dead 

That, kindling round our way, 
Gave fickle promises of joy ; 

' Abide with us, we pray ! ' 

Dim eve draws on, and many a friend, 

Our early path that blest, 
Wrapt in the cerements of the tomb, 

Have laid them down to rest ; 
But Thou, the everlasting Friend, 

Whose Spirit's glorious ray 
Can gild the dreary vale of death, 

* Abide with us, we pray ! ' " 



ABIDE WITH US, FOR IT IS TOWARD EVENING, AND 
THE DAY IS FAR SPENT." 



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